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THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADER. 


A TALE OF THE PACIFIC. 


By R. M. BALLANTYNE. 


17 TO 27 VaNdeWater 5 t 

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Gascoyne, the Sandal- Wood Trader. 


CHAPTER L 

THE SCHOOKEK. 

The great Pacific is the scene of our story. On a beau- 
tiful morning, many years ago, a little schooner might 
liave been seen floating, light and graceful as a sea-mew , 
on the breast of the slumbering ocean. She was one of 
those low, black-hulled vessels, with raking, taper masts, 
trimly cut sails, and elegant form, which we are accus- 
tomed to associate with the idea of a yacht or a pirate. 

She might have been the former, as far as appearance 
went; for the sails and deck were white as snow, and every 
portion of brass and copper above her water-line shone in 
the hot sun with dazzling brilliancy. But pleasure-seekers 
were not wont, in thoe days, to take such distant flights, 
or to venture into such dangerous seas — dangerous alike 
from the savage character of the islanders, and the numer- 
ous coral reefs that lie hidden a few feet below the surface 
of the waves. 

Still less probable did it seem that the vessel in question 
could belong to the lawless class of craft to which we have 
referred; for, although she had what may be styled a 
wicked aspect, and was evidently adapted for swift sailing, 
neither large guns nor small arms of any kind were visi- 
ble. 

Whatever her nature or her object, she was reduced at 
the time Ave introduce her to the reader, to a state of inac- 
tion by the dead calm which prevailed. The sea resembled 
a sheet of clear glass. Not a cloud broke the softness of 
the sky, in which the sun glowed hotter and hotter as it 
rose toward the zenith. The sails of the schooner hung 
idly from .the yards; her reflected image was distorted, but 
scarcely broken, by the long, gentle SAvell; her crew, with 


6 GASCOYITE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. 

the exception of the watch, were asleep either on deck or 
down below; and so deep was the universal silence, that, as 
the vessel rose and fell with a slow, quiet motion, the pat- 
tering of the reef -points on her sails forcibly attracted the 
listener's attention, as does the ticking of a clock in the 
deep silence of night. A few sea-birds rested on the water, 
as if in the enjoyment of the profound peace that reigned 
around; and far away on the horizon might be seen the 
tops of the palm-trees that grow on one of those coral 
islands which lie scattered in thousands, like beautiful 
gems, on the surface of that bright blue sea. 

Among the men who lay sleeping in various easy, off- 
hand attitudes on the schooner^ s deck, was one who merits 
special attention — not only because of the grotesque appear- 
ance of his person, but also because he is one of the princi- 
pal actors in our t;ale. 

He was a large, powerful man, of that rugged build and 
hairy aspect that might have suggested the idea that he 
would be difficult to kill. He was a fair man, with red 
hair, and a deeply sunburned face, on which jovial good- 
humor sat almost perpetually enthroned. At the moment 
when we introduce him to the reader, however, that ex- 
pression happened to be modified in consequence of his 
having laid him down to sleep in a sprawling manner on 
his back — the place as well as the position being, apparent- 
ly, one of studied discomfort. His legs lay over the heel of 
the bowsprit, his big body reposed on a confused heap of 
blocks and cordage, and his neck rested on the stock of an 
anchor so that his head hung down over it, presenting the 
face to view, with the large mouth wide open, in an upside- 
down position. The man was evidently on the verge of 
choking, but, being a strong man, and a rugged man, and 
a healthy man, he did not care. He seemed to prefer 
choking to the trouble of rousing himself and improving 
his position. 

How long he would have lain in this state of felicity it is 
impossible to say, for his slumbers were rudely interrupted 
by a slight lurch of the schooner, which caused the blocks 
and cordage attached to the sheet of the jib to sweep slowly, 
but with rasping asperity, across his face. Any ordinary 
man would have been seriously damaged---at least in ap- 
pearance — by such an accident; but this particular sea-dog 
was tough in the skin — he was only awakened by it — noth- 


GASCOYKE, THE SAHI)AL-WOOD TRAHEE. ? 

ing more. He yawned, raised himself lazily, and gazed 
round with that vacant stare of unreasonable surprise 
which is common to man on jDassing from a state of som- 
nolence to that of wakefulness. 

Gradually the expression of habitual good-humor settled 
on his visage, as he looked from one to another of his 
sleeping comrades, and at last, with a bland smile, he ’ 
broke forth into the following soliloquy: 

‘ ‘ Wot a goose, wot a grampus youWe bin, John Bumpus: 
firstly, for goin'' to sea; secondly, for remainin^ at sea; 
thirdly, for not forsakin’’ the sea; fourthly, for bein^ wor- 
ried about it at all, now that youVe made up your mind to 
retire from the sea; and, fifthly — 

Here John Bumpus paused as if to meditate on the full 
depth and meaning of these polite remarks, or to invent 
some new and powerful expression wherewith to deliver 
his fifth head. His mental efforts seemed to fail, however; 
for, instead of concluding the sentence, he hummed the 
following lines, which, we may suppose, were expressive of 
his feelings, as well as his intentions: 

So good-bye to the mighty ocean. 

And adoo to the rollin’ sea, 

For it’s nobody has no notion 
Wot a grief it has bin to me.” 

“ Ease off the sheets and square the topsail yards, was 
at that moment said, or rather murmured, by a bass voice 
so deep and rich that, although scarcely raised above a 
whisper, it was distinctly heard over the whole deck. 

John Bumpus raised his bulky form with a degree of 
lithe activity that proved him to be not’ less agile than 
athletic, and, with several others, sprung to obey the order. 
A few seconds later the sails were swelled out by a light 
breeze, and the schooner moved through the water at a rate 
which seemed scarcely possible under the influence of so 
gentle a puff of air. Presently the breeze increased, the 
vessel cut through the blue water like a knife, leaving a 
long track of foam in her wake as she headed for the coral- 
island before referred to. The outer reef of barrier of coral 
wliich guarded the island was soon reached. The narrow 
opening in this natural bulwark was passed. The schooner 
stood across the belt of perfectly still water that lay between 
the reef and the shore, and entered a small bay, where the 
calm water reflected the strip of white sand, green palms. 


8 aASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. 

and tropical plants that skirted its margin, as well as the 
pnrple hills of the interior. 

Here she swept round in a sudden but graceful curve, 
until all her canvas fluttered in the breeze, and then 
dropped anchor in about six fathoms water. 


CHAPTER 11. 

RUMPUS IS FIERY AND PHILOSOPHICAL. — MURDEROUS 
DESIGNS FRUSTRATED. 

The captain of the schooner, whose deep voice had so 
suddenly terminated the meditations of John Bump us, was 
one of those men who seem to have been formed for the 
special purpose of leading and commanding their fellows. 

He was not only unusually tall and powerful^ — physical 
qualities which, in themselves, are by no means sufiicient to 
command respect — but, as we have said, he possessed a 
deep, full-toned bass voice, in which there seemed to lie a 
species of fascination; for its softest tones riveted attention, 
and when it thundered forth commands in the flercest 
storms, in inspired confidence and a feeling of security in 
all who heard it. The countenance of the captain, how- 
ever, was that which induced men to accord to him a posi- 
tion of superiority in whatever sphere of action he chanced 
to move. It was not so much a handsome as a manly and 
singularly grave face, in every line of which was written 
inflexible determination. His hair was short, black, and 
curly. A small mustache darkened his upper lin, but the 
rest of his face was closely shaven, so that his large chin 
and iron jaw were fully displayed. His eyes were of that 
indescribable blue color which can exhibit the intensest 
passion, or the most melting tenderness. 

He wore a somber but somewhat picturesque costume — a 
dark-colored flannel shirt and trousers, which latter were- 
gathered in close round his lower limbs by a species of drab 
gaiter that appeared somewhat incongruous with the pro- 
fession of the man. The only bit of bright color about him 
was a scarlet belt round his waist, from the side of which 
depended a long knife in a brown leather sheath. A pair 
of light shoes, and a small roimd cap resembling what is 


GASCOYi^E, THE SANDAL- WOOD TKADER. 9 

styled in these days a pork-j)ie, completed his costume. 
He was about forty years of age. 

Such was the commander^ or captain^, or skipper of this 
susj^icious-looking schooner — a man pre-eminently fitted 
for the accomplishment of much good, or the perpetration 
of great evil. 

As soon as the anchor touched the ground, the captain 
ordered a small boat to he lowered, and, leaping into it 
with two men, one of whom was our friend John Bumpus, 
rowed toward the shore. 

Have you brought your kit with you, John?^^ inquired 
the captain, as the little boat shot over the smooth waters 
of the bay. 

“ Wok’s of it, sfr,^^ replied our rugged seaman, holding 
up a small bundle tied in a red cotton handkerchief. ‘‘I 
s’ pose our cruise ashore won’t be a long one. ” 

“ It will be long for you, my man — at least as far as the 
schooner is concerned, for I do not mean to take you aboard 
again!” 

“ Not take me aboard agin!” exclaimed the sailor, with 
a look of surprise which quickly degenerated into an an- 
gry frown, and thereafter gradually relaxed into a broad 
grin as he continued: “ Why, capting, wot do you mean 
to do with me, then? for I’m a heavy piece of goods, d’ye 
see, and can’t be easily moved about without a small touch 
o’ my own consent, you know.” 

Jo Bumpus, as he was fond of styling himself, said this 
with a serio-comic air of sarcasm, for he was an exceptioii 
to the general rule of his fellows. He had little respect 
for, and no fear of, his commander. Indeed, to say truth 
(for truth must be told, even though the character of our 
rugged friend should suffer), Jo entertained a most pro- 
found belief in the immense ^vantage of muscular strength 
and vigor in general, and of his own prowess in particular. 

Although not quite so gigantic a man as his captain, he 
w^as nearly so, and, being a bold, self-reliant fellow, he felt 
persuaded in his own mind that he could thrash him, if 
need were. In fact, Jo was convinced that there was no 
living creature under the sun, human or otherwise, that 
walked upon two legs, that he could not pommel to death, 
with more or less ease, by means of his fists alone. And in 
this conviction he was not far wrong. Yet it must not be 
supposed that Jo Bumpus was a boastful man or a bully. 


10 GASCOYI^E, THE SAHDAL-WOOJD TEA DEE. 

Far from it. He was so thoroughly persuaded of his in- 
vincibility that he felt there was no occasion to prove it. 
He therefore followed the natural bent of his inclinations, 
which led him at all times to exhibit a mild, amiable, and 
gentle aspect — except, of course, when he was roused. As 
occasion for being roused was not wanting in the South 
Seas in those days, Jo^s amiability was frequently put to 
the test. He sojourned, while there, in a condition of 
alternate calm and storm; but riotous joviality ran, like a 
rich vein, through all his checkered life, and lighted up its 
most somber phases like gleams of light on an April day. 

You entered my service with your own consent,^ ^ re- 
plied the captain to Jo’s last remark, ‘‘ and you may leave 
it, with the same consent, whenever you choose; but you 
will please to remember that I did not engage you to serve 
on board the schooner. Back there you do not go either 
with or without your consent, my fine fellow, and if you 
are bent on going to sea on your own account— you’ve got 
a pair of good arms and legs — ^you can swim! Besides,” 
continued the captain, dropping the tone of sarcasm in 
which this was said, and assuming a more careless and 
good-natured air, ‘‘ you were singing something not long 
since, if I mistake not, about ‘ farewell to the rolling sea,’ 
which leads me to think you will not object to a short cruise 
on shore for a change, especially on such a beautiful island 
as this is.” 

I’m your man, capting,” cried the impulsive seaman, 
at the same time giving his oar a pull that well-nigh spun 
the boat round. “ And, to say wots the plain truth, d’ye 
see, I’m not sorry to ha done with your schooner; for, 
although she is as tight a little craft as any man could wish 
for to go to sea in, I can’t say much for the crew — saving 
your presence, Dick,” he added, glancing over his shoulder 
at the surly-looking man who pulled the bow oar, Of 
all the rascally set I ever clapped eyes on, they seems to 
me the worst. ^ If I didn’t know you for a sandal-wood 
trader, I do believe I’d take ye for a pirate.” 

‘‘ Don’t speak ill of your messmates behind their backs, 
Jo,” said the captain, with a slight frown. ‘‘ Ho good 
and true man ever does that. ” 

Ho more I do,” replied Jo Bumpus, while a deep red 
color suffused his bronzed countenance. “Ho more I do, 
leastwise if they wos here I’d say it to their faces; for 


GASCOYN^E, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. 11 

they^re a set of as ill-tongiied villains as I ever had the mis- 
fortune to — 

“ Silence!’^ exclaimed the captain^ suddenly^ in a voice 
of thunder. 

Tew men would have ventured to disobey the command 
given by such a man, but John Bumpus was one of those 
few. He did indeed remain silent for two seconds, but it 
was the silence of astonishment. 

“ Capting,'’^ said he, seriously, ‘‘I don^t mean no 
offense, but I^d have you to know that I engaged to work 
for you, not to hold my tongue at your bidding, d^ye see. 
There ain^t the man living as J1 make Jo Bumpus shut up 
w’en he^s got a mind to — 

The captain put an abrupt §nd to the remarks of his re- 
fractory seaman by starting up suddenly in fierce anger and 
seizing the tiller, apparently with the intention to fell him. 
He checked himself, however, as suddenly, and breaking 
into a loud laugh, cried: 

“ Come, Jo, you must admit that there is at least one 
living man who has made you ‘ shut up ^ before you had 
finished what you^d got to say."’"’ 

John Bumpus, who had thrown up his left arm to ward 
off the anticipated blow, and dropped his oar in order to 
clinch his right fist, quietly resumed his oar, and shook his 
head gravely for nearly a minute, after which he made the 
following observation : 

“ Oapting, IVe seed, in my experience o' life, that there 
are some constitootions as don't agree with jokin'; an' 
yours is one on 'em. Now, if you'd take the advice of a 
plain man, you'd never try it on. You're a grave man by 
natur', and you're so bad at a joke that a feller can't quite 
tell w'en you're a-doin' of it. See, now! I do declare I 
wos as near .drivin' you right over the stem o' your own 
boat as could be, only by good luck I seed the twinkle in 
your eye in time. " 

‘ ‘ Pull away, my lad, " said the captain, in the softest 
tones of his deep voice, at the same time looking his re- 
prover straight in the face. 

There was something in the tone in which that simple 
command was given, and in the look by which it was ac- 
companied, that effectually quelled John Bumpus in spite 
of himself. Violence had no effect on John, because in 
most cases he was able to meet it with superior violence. 


12 GASCOYKE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. 

and in all cases lie was willing to try. But to be 23ut down 
in this mild way was perplexing. The words were familiar, 
the look straightforward and common enough. He could 
not understand it at all, and, being naturally of a philo- 
sophical turn of mind, he spent the next three minutes in 
a futile endeavor to analyze liis own feelings. ' Before he 
had come to any satisfactory conclusion on the subject, the 
beak’s keel grated on the white sand of the shore. 

Now, while all that we have been describing in the last 
and present chapters was going on, a very different series 
of events was caking place on the coral island; for there, 
under the pleasant shade of the cocoanut palms, a tall, fair, 
and handsome youth was walking lightly down the green 
slopes toward the shore in anticipation of the arrival of the 
schooner, and a naked, dark-skinned savage was dogging 
his steps, winding like a hideous snake among the bushes, 
and apparently seeking an opportunity to launch the short 
S23ear he carried in his hand at his unsuspecting victim. 

As the youth and the savage descended the mountain- 
side together, the former frequently paused when an open- 
ing in the rich foliage peculiar to these beautiful isles en- 
abled him to obtain a clear view of the magnificent bay and 
its fringing coral reef, on which the swell of the great Pa- 
cific — so calm and undulating out beyond — fell in tremen- 
dous breakers, with a long, low, solemn roar like distant 
thunder. As yet no object broke the surface of the mirror- 
like bay within the reef. 

Each tinue the youth paused the savage stopped also, and 
more than once Iffe poised his deadly spear, while his glar- 
ing eyeballs shone amid the green foliage like those of a 
tiger. Yet upon each occasion he exhibited signs of hesi- 
tation, and finally lowered the weapon, and crouched into 
the underwood. 

To any one ignorant of the actors in this sense, the inde- 
cision of the savage would have appeared unaccountable; 
for there could be no doubt of his desire to slay the fair 
youth — still less doubt of his ability to dart his formidable 
sj)ear with precision. Nevertheless, there was good reason 
for his hesitating; for young Henry Stuart was well known, 
alike by settlers and savages, as possessing the swiftest 
foot, the strongest arm and the boldest heart in the island, 
and Keona was not celebrated for the possession of these 
qualities in any degree above the average of his fellows, al- 


OASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADER. 13 

though he did undoubtedly exceed them in revenge, hatred, 
and tlie like. On one .occasion young Stuart had, while 
defending his mother's house against an attack of the sav- 
ages, felled Keona with a w’ell-directed blow of his fist. It 
was doubtless out of revenge for this that the latter now 
dogged the former through the lonely recesses of the mount- 
ain-pass by which he had crossed the island from the little 
settlement in which was his home, and gained the seques- 
tered bay in which he expected to find the schooner. Up 
to this point, however, the savage had not summoned cour- 
age to make -the attack, although, with the exception of a 
hunting-knife, his enemy was altogether unarmed; for he 
knew that in the event of missing his mark the young 
man's speed of foot would enable him to outstrip him, 
while his strength of frame would quickly terminate, a 
single combat. 

As the youth gained the more open land near the beach> 
the possibility of making a successful cast of the spear be- 
came more and more doubtful. Einally the savage shrunk 
into the bushes, and abandoned the pursuit. 

‘‘Not here ye. Master Gascoyne," muttered Henry, as 
he sat down on a rock to rest; for, although the six miles 
of country he had crossed was a trifle, as regarded distance, 
to a lad of nineteen, the rugged mountain-path by which he 
had come would have tried the muscles of a Eed Indian, 
and the nerve of a goat. “ You were wont to keep to time 
better in days gone by. Truly, it seenis to me a strange 
thing that I should thus be made a sort of walking-post be- 
tween my mother's house and this bay, all for the benefit 
of a man who seems to me no better than he should be, 
and whom I don't like, and yet whom I do like in some 
unaccountable fashion that I don't understand." 

Whatever the youth's thoughts were after giving vent to 
the foregoing soliloquy, he kept them to himself. They 
did not at first appear to be of an agreeable nature; for he 
frowned once or twice and struck his thigh with his clinched 
hand; but gradually a pleasant expression lighted up his 
manly face, as he gazed out upon the sleeping sea and 
watched the gorgeous clouds that soon began to rise and 
cluster round the sun. 

After an hour or so spent in wandering on the beach 
picking up shells, and gazing wistfully out to sea, Henry 
Stuart appeared to grow tired of waiting; for he laid him- 


14 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. 

self down on the shore, turned his back on the ocean, pil- 
lowed his head on a tuft of grass, and deliberately went to 
sleep. . 


Now was the time for the savage to wreak liis vengeance 
on his enemy; but, fortunately, that villain, despite his 
subtlety and cunning, had not conceived the possibility of 
the youth indulging in such an unnatural recreation as a 
nap in the forenoon. He had, therefore, retired to his na- 
tive jungle, and during the hour in which Henry was bur- 
ied in repose, and in which he might have accomplished 
his end without danger or uncertainty, he was seated in a 
dark cave, moodily resolving in his mind future plans of 
villainy, and indulging the hope that on the youth^s re- 
turning homeward he would be more successful in finding 
a favorable opportunity to take his life. 

Hu ring tliis same hour it was that our low-hulled little 
schooner hove in sight on the horizon, ran swiftly down 
before the breeze, cast anchor in the bay, and sent her boat 
ashore, as we have seerr, with the captain, the surly man 
called Hick, and our friend John Bumpus. 

It happened that, just as the boat ran under the shelter 
of a rocky point and touched the strand, Keona left his 
cave for the purpose of observing what young Stuart was 
about. He knew that he could not have retraced liis home- 
ward way without passing within sight of his place of con- 
cealment. 

A glance of surprise crossed his dark visage as he crept 
to the edge of the underwood and saw the schooner at 
anchor in the bay. This was succeeded by a fiendish grin 
of exul tation as his eye fell on the slumbering form of the 
youth. He instantly took advantage of the opportunity; 
and so deeply was he engrossed with his murderous ■ inten- 
tion, that he did not observe the captain of the schooner 
as he turned a projectmg rock, and suddenly appeared 
upon the scene, '"riie captain, however, saw the savage, 

ling, at the same time, to liis 



A second glance showed him the sleeping form of 
Henry, and, almost before he had time to suspect that foul 
play was going on, he saw the savage glide from the 
bushes to the side of the sleepei-, raise his spear, and poise 
it for one moment, as if to make sure of sending it straight 
to the youth^s heart. 


GASCOYKE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. ^ 15 

There was not a moment to lose. The caj)tain carried a 
short carbine in his hand, with which he took aim at the 
savage — going down on one knee to make a surer 'shot, for 
the carbine of those days was not to be depended on at a dis- 
tance much beyond a hundred yards; and as the actors in 
this scene were separated by even more than that distance, 
there was a considerable chance of missing the savage and 
hitting the young man. 

This, however, was not a moment to calculate chances. 
The captain pulled the trigger, and the crash of the shot 
was followed by a howl from the savage, as his uplifted 
arm dropped to his side, and the spear fell across the face 
of the sleeper. Henry instantly awoke, and sprung up 
with the agility of a panther. Before he could observe 
what had occurred, Keona leaped into the bushes and dis- 
appeared. Henry at once bounded after him; and the 
captain, giving vent to a lusty cheer, rushed across the 
beach, and sprung into the forest, closely followed by surly 
Dick and John Bumpus, whose united cheers of excitement 
and shouts of defiance awoke the echoes of the place with 
clamorous discords. 


CHAPTER III. 

A ROUGH WALK ENLIVENED BY RAMBLING TALK. — BUM- 
PUS IS ‘‘ AGREEABLE. 

It is said, in the proverbial philosophy of nautical men, 
that “ a stern chase is a long one.-’^ The present instance 
was an exception to the general rule. Keona was wounded. 
Young Stuart was fleet as the antelope, and strong as a 
youB^ lion. In these circumstances it is not surprising 
that, after a run of less than a quarter of a mile, he suc- 
ceeded in laying his hands on the neck of the savage and 
hurling him to the ground, where he lay panting and help- 
less, looking up in the face of his conqueror with an ex- 
pression of hopeless despair; for savages and wicked men 
generally are wont to judge of others by themselves, and 
to expect to receive such treatment from their enemies as 
they themselves would in similar circumstances accord. 

The fear of instant death was before his eyes, and the 
teeth of Keona chattered in his head, while his face grew 
more hideous than ever, by reason of its becoming livid. 


16 GASCOYKE^ THE SAK HAL- WOOD TRADER. 

His fears were groundless. Henry Stuart was not a sav- 
age. He was humane by nature; and, in addition to this, 
he had been trained under the influence of that Book whicli 
teaches us that the most philosophical, because the most 
effective, method of procedure in this world, is to ‘‘ over- 
come evil with good. 

‘‘ So, you scoundrel,'’^ said Henry, placing his knee on 
Keenan’s chest, and compressing his throat with his left 
hand, while with his right he drew forth a long glittering 
knife, and raised it in the air — ‘‘ so you are not satisfied 
with what I gave you the last time we met, but you must 
needs take the trouble to cross my path a second time, and 
get a taste of cold steel, must you?^^ 

Although Keona could speak no English, he understood 
it sufficiently to appreciate the drift of the youth^s words, 
even though he had failed to comprehend the meaning of 
the angry frown and the glittering knife. But, however 
much he might have wished to reply to the question, Henry 
took care to render the attempt impossible, by compressing 
his windpipe until he became blue m the face, and then 
black. At the same time, he let the sharp point of his 
knife touch the skin just over the region of the heart. 

Having thus convinced his vanquished foe that death 
was at .the door, he suddenly relaxed his iron grip, arose, 
sheathed his knife, and bade the savage get up. The mis- 
erable creature did so, with some difficulty, just as the cap- 
tain an.d his men arrived on the scene. 

“ Well met, Henry,^^ cried the former, extending his 
hand to the youth; had I been a moment later, my lad, I 
fear that your lifers blood would have been on the sea- 
shore. 

‘‘ Then it was you who fired the shot. Captain Gas- 
coyne? This is the second time I have to thank you for 
saving my life,'’^ said the young man, returning the grasp 
of the captain^s hand. 

Truly, it is but a small matter to have to thank me 
for. Doubtless if my stout man John Bumpus had car- 
ried the carbine, he would have done you as good service. 
And methinks, Henry, that you would have preferred to 
owe your life to either of my men rather than to me, if I 
may judge by your looks. 

''You should not judge by looks, captain, replied the 
youth quickly—" especially the looks of a man who has just 


GASCOYN^E, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADER. 17 

had a hand-to-hand tussle with a savage. But, to tell the 
plain truth. Captain Gascoyne, I would indeed rather have 
hiid to thank your worthy man John Bumpus than yourself 
for coming to my aid; for although I owe you no grudge, 
and do not count you an enemy, I had rather see your back 
than your face; and you know the reason' why. 

You give me credit, boy, for more knowledge than I 
possess,^'’ replied Gascoyne, while an angry frown gathered 
for a moment on his brow, but passed away almost as 
quickly as it came. I know not the cause of your un- 
reasonal^e dislike to one who has never done you an injury. ” 

Never done me an injury!’^ cried Henry, starting and 
turning with a look of passion on his companion ; then, 
checking himself by a strong effort, he added, in a milder 
tone, ‘‘ But a truce to such talk; and I ask your forgive- 
ness for my sharp words just after your rendering me such 
good service in the hour of need. You and I differ in our 
notions on one or two points — that is all; there is no need 
for quarreling. See, here is a note from my mother, who 
sent me to the bay to meet you. 

During this colloquy, Dick and Bumpus had mounted 
guard over the wounded savage, just out of ear-shot of 
their captain. 

Neither of the sailors ventured to hold their prisoner, be- 
cause they deemed it an unmanly advantage to take of one 
who was so completely (as they imagined) in their power. 
They kept a watchful eye on him, however; and while they 
affected an easy indifference of attitude, held themselves in 
readiness to pounce upon him if he should attempt to es- 
cape. But nothing seemed further from the mind of. 
Keona than such an attempt. He appeared to be thor- 
oughly exhausted by his recent struggle and loss of blood, | 
and his body was bent as if he were about to sink down to 
the ground. There was, however, a peculiar glance in his 
dark eyes that induced John Bumpus to be more on his 
guard than appearances seemed to warrant. 

While Gascoyne was reading the letter to which we have 
referred, Keona suddenly placed his left leg behind surly 
Dick, and, with his un wounded fist, hit that morose indi- 
vidual such a tremendous back-handed blow on the nose 
that he instantly measured his length on the ground. John 
Bumpus made a sudden plunge at the savage on seeing 
this, but the latter ducked his head, passed like an eel 


18 GASCOYiq^E, THE SAKHAL-AVOOl) TKAHER. 

under the very arms of the sailor, and went olf into the 
forest like a deer. 

Hold!^^ shouted Captain Gascoyne, as John turned, in 
a state of mingled amazement and anger, to pursue. ‘‘ Hold 
on, Bumpus; let the miserable rascal go.^^ 

John stopped, looked over his shoulder, hesitated, and 
finally came back, with a rolling air of nautical indifference, 
and his hands thrust into his breeches-pockets. 

“You know best, capting,'’^ said he; “ but I think it a 
pity to let sich a dirty varmint go clear off', to dodge about 
in the bushes, and mayhap treat us to a poisoned arrow, or 
a spear-thrust on the sly. Howsomedever, it ain^t no con- 
sarn wotever to Jo Bumpus. How^s your beak, Dick, my 
boy?^^ 

“ None the better for your askin%^^ replied the surly 
mariner, who was tenderly stroking the injured member of 
his face with the fingers of both hands. 

“ Come, Dick, it is none the worse of being inquired 
after, said Henry, laughing. “ But •’tis as well to let the 
fellow go. He knows best how to cure Ms wound, by the 
application of a few simples; and by thus making off has 
relieved us of the trouble and responsibility of trying our 
hands at civilized doctoring. Besides, John Bumpus (if 
that’s your name — though I do think your father might 
have found you a better) your long legs would never have 
brought you within a mile of the savage.” 

“ Young man,” retorted Jo, gravely, “ Td have you to 
know that the family of the Bumpuses is an old and a hon- 
orable one. They corned over with the Conkerer to Ire- 
land, where they picked up a deal o’ their good manners, 
after which they settled at last on their own estates in York- 
shire. Though they have corned down in the world, and 
the last of the Bumpuses — that’s me'-— is takin’ a pleasure- 
trip round the world before the mast, I Avon’t stand by and 
hear my name made game of, d’ye see; and I’d have ye to 
know, further, my buck, that the Bumpuses has a pecool- 
iar gift for fightin’; and although you are a strappin’ 
young feller, you’d better not cause me for to prove that 
you’re conkerable.” 

Having delivered himself of this oration, the last of the 
Bumpuses frowned portentously on the youth Avho had 
dared to risk his anger, and turning with a bland smile to 
surly Dick, asked him “ if his beak Avas any better 7iow.^^ 


GASCOTKE, THE SAHHAL-WOOT) TRADER. If) 

“ There seems to be bad news in the letter, I think,"" 
observed Henry, as Captain Gascoyne perused the epistle 
with evident signs of displeasure. 

“ Bad enough in these times of war, boy,"" replied the 
other, folding the note and placing it in a pouch inside the 
breast of his flannel shirt. It seems that that pestiferous 
British frigate, the ‘ Talisman," lies at anchor in the bay 
on the other side of the island."" 

“ Nothing in that to cause uneasiness to an honest 
trader,"" said Henry, leading the way up the steep path by 
which he had descended from the mountain region of the 
interior. 

‘ ‘ That speech only shows your ignorance of the usages 
of ships of war. Know you not that the nature of the 
trade in which I am engaged requires me to be strong- 
handed, and that the opinion of a commander in the British 
navy as to how many hands are sufficient for the navigation 
of a trading-schooner does not accord with mine? — a differ- 
ence of opinion which may possibly result in his relieving 
me of a few of my best men when I can ill afford to spare 
them. And, by the way, "" said Gascoyne, pausing as they 
gained the brow of an eminence that commanded a view of 
the rich woodland on one side and the sea on the other, 
“ I had better take precautions against such a mischance. 
Here, Dick "" (taking the man aside and whispering to 
him), “ go back to the schooner, my lad, and tell the mate 
to send ten of the best hands ashore with provisions and 
arms. Let them squat where they choose on land, only 
let them see to it that they keep well out of sight and hear- 
ing until I want them. And now. Master Henry, lea<^l the 
way; John Bumpus and I will follow at your heels like a 
couple of faithful dogs. "" 

The scene through which young Henry Stuart now led his 
sea-faring companions was of that rich, varied, and beauti- 
ful character which is strikingly characteristic of those 
islands of the Pacific which owe their origin to volcanic 
agency. Unlike the low coral islets, this island presented 
every Variety of the boldest mountain scenery, and yet, like 
them, it displayed all the gorgeous beauty of a rich tropical 
vegetation. In some places the ground had been cracked 
and riven into great fissures and uncouth caverns of the 
wildest description, by volcanoes apparently long since ex- 
tinct. In others the landscape presented the soft beauty of 


20 GASnOYKE, THE SAE DAL- WOOD TRADER. 

undulating, grove-like scenery, in whicli, amid a profusion 
of bright green herbage, there rose conspicuous the tall 
stems and waving plumes of the cocoanut palm; the superb 
and umbrageous ko-a, with its laurel-green leaves and sweet 
blossoms; the kukui, or candlenut-tree; the fragrant san- 
dal-wood, and a variety of other trees and shrubs for which 
there are no English names. 

Hundreds of green paroquets with blue lieMs and red 
breasts, turtle-doves, wood-pigeons, and other birds en- 
livened the groves with sound, if not with melody, and the 
various lakelets and pools were alive with wild-ducks and 
water-hens. 

The route by which the party traveled led them first 
across a country of varied and beautiful aspect; then it con- 
ducted them into wild mountain fastnesses, among which 
they clambered, at times with considerable difficulty. Ere 
long they passed into a dreary region where the ancient fires 
that upheaved the island from the deep seemed to have 
scorched the land into a condition of perpetual desolation. 
Blackened and bare lava rocks, steep volcanic ridges and 
gorges, irregular truncated cones, deep-mouthed -caves and 
fissures, overhanging arches, natural bridges, great tunnels 
and ravines, surrounded them on every side, and so con- 
cealed the softer features of the country that it was scarce- 
ly possible to believe in the reality of the verdant region 
out of which they had just passed. In another hour this 
chaotic scenery was left behind; the highest ridge of the 
mountains was crossed, and the travelers began to descend 
the green slopes on the other side of the island. These 
slopes terminated in a beach of white sand, while beyond 
lay the calm waters of the inclosed lagoon, the coral reef 
with its breakers, and the mighty sea. 

“ ^Tis a pretty spot?^' said Henry, interrogatively, as the 
party halted on the edge of a precipice, whence they ob- 
tained an uninterrupted view of the whole of that side of the 
island. 

“ Ay, pretty enough,’^ replied Gascoyne, in a some- 
what sad tone of voice : ‘ ‘ I had hoped to have led a quiet 
life here once, but that was not to be. How say you, 
Bumpus; could you make up your mind to cast anchor 
here for a year or so?*'' 

“ Wot^s that you say, capting?’" inquired honest John, 


OASroYKTl, THE SAKHA L- WOOD TRADER. 21 

who was evidently lost in admiration of the magnificent 
scene that lay spread out before him. 

I ask if you have no objection to come to an anchor 
here for a time,^ ’ repeated the captain. 

“ Objection! Idl tell ye wot it is, capting, I never seed 
sich a place afore in all my born days. Why, it^s a slice 
out o’ paradise. I do believe if Adam and Eve was here 
they^’d think they^d got back again into Eden. It^s more 
beautif idler than the blue ocean, by a long chalk; an^ if 
you wants a feller that^s handy at almost anything after a 
fashion — a. jack of all trades and master of none (except 
seamanship, which ainH o^ no use here) — Jo Bumpus is 
your man!^'’ 

‘‘ I^m glad to hear you say that, Jo,^^ said Henry, laugh- 
ing, “ for we are greatly in need of white men of your stamp 
in these times, when the savages are so fierce against each 
other that they are like to eat us up altogether, merely by 
way of keeping their hands in practice. 

‘‘ White men of my stamp remarked Bumpus, sur- 
veying complacently his deeply bronzed hands, which were 
only a shade darker than his visage; “ well, I would like 
to know wliat ye call black if I^m a white man.^^ • 

“ Blood, and not skin, is what stamps the color of the 
man, Jo. If it were agreeable to Captain Gascoyne to let 
you off your engagement to him, I think I could make it 
worth your while to engage with me, and would find you 
plenty of work of all kinds, including a little of that same 
lighting for which the Bumpuses are said to be so famous.'’^ 
Gentlemen,’’^ said Jo, gravel}^, I am agreeable to be- 
come a good and chattel for this occasion only, as the play- 
bills say, and hold myself up to the highest bidder. 

“ Nay, you are sold to me, Bumpus, said Gascoyne, 
‘‘ and must do as I bid you.^'’ 

“ Wery good, then bid away as fast as you like. 

‘‘ Come, captain, don^t be hard,^^ said Henry: ‘^what 
will you take for him?^^ 

I can not afford to sell him at any price,^^ replied the 
other, for I have brought him here expressly as a gift to 
a certain Mary Stuart, queen of women, if not of Scotland 
— a widow who dwells in Sandy Cove — 

“ What, my mother?’^ interrupted Henry, while a shade 
of displeasure crossed his countenance at what he deemed 


22 


GASCOYNE, THE SA NBA L- WOOD TRADER. 


the insolent familiarity with which Gascoyne mentioned 
her name. 

‘‘ The same. On my last visit I promised to get her a 
man-servant who could do her some service in keeping off 
the savages when they take a fancy to trouble the settle- 
ment; and if Bumpus is willing to try his luck on shore, 
I promise him heTl find her a good mistress, and her house 
13leasant quarters. 

“So,^^ exclaimed the stout seaman, stopping short in 
his rolling walk, and gazing earnestly into his captain^s 
face, ‘‘ I^m to be sold to a woman 

‘‘ AVith your own consent entirely. Master Bumpus,'’’ said 
Gascoyne, with a smile. 

“ Come, Jo,” cried Henry, gayly, ‘‘I see you like the 
prospect, and feel assured that you and I shall be good 
friends. Give us your flipper, my boy!” 

John Bumpus allowed the youth to seize and shake a 
“ flipper,” which would have done credit to a walrus, both 
in regard to shape and size. After a short pause he said, 

‘ ‘ AA'hether you and me shall be good friends, young man, 
depends entirely on the respect which you show to the 
family of the Bumpuses — said family havin’ corned over to 
Ireland with the Oonkerer in the year — ah! I misremem- 
ber the year, but that don’t matter, bein’ a subject of no 
consarn wotiver, ’xcept to school-boys who’ll get their licks 
if they can’t tell, and sarve ’em right too. But if you’re 
willin’ I’m agreeable, and there’s an end o’ the whole 
affair. ” 

So saying, John Bumpus suffered a bland smile to light 
up his ruddy countenance, and resumed his march in the 
“ wake,” as he expressed it, of his companions. 

Half an hour later they arrived at Sandy Cove, a small 
native settlement and mission station, and were soon seated 
at the hospitable board of Widow Stuart. 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE MISSIONARY. — SUSPICIONS, SURPRISES AND SURMISES. 

Sandy Cove was a small settlement, inhabited partly 
by native converts to Christianity, and partly by a few 
European traders, who, having found that the place was 
in the usual track of South-Sea whalers, and frequently 


GASCOYKE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. 23 

visited by that class of vessels as well as by other ships, had 
established several stores or tradiiig-houses, and had taken 
lip their permanent abode there. 

The island was one of those the natives of which were 
early induced to agree to the introduction of the gospel. At 
the time of which we write, it was in that transition state 
which renders the work of the missionary one of anxiety, 
toil and extreme danger, as well as one of love. 

But the Eev. Frederick Mason was a man eminently 
fitted to fill the post which he had selected as his sphere of 
labor. Bold and manly in the extreme, he was more like 
a soldier in outward aspect than a missionary. Yet the 
gentleness of the lamb dwelt in his breast and beamed in 
his eye; and to a naturally indomitable and enthusiastic 
disposition was added burning zeal in the cause of his be- 
loved Master. 

Six years previous to the opening of our tale, he had come 
to Sandy Cove with his wife and child, the latter a girl of 
six years of age at that time. In one year death bereaved 
the missionary of his wife, and, about the same time, war 
brobe out in the island between the chiefs who clung to the 
idolatrous rites and bloody practices peculiar to the inhabit- 
ants of the South Sea Islands, and those chiefs who were 
inclined to favor Christianity. This war continued to rage 
more or less violently for several years, frequently slumber- 
ing, sometimes breaking out with sudden violence, like the 
fitful eruptions of the still unextinct volcanoes hi those dis- 
tant regions. 

During all this period of bloodshed and alarms, the mis- 
sionary stuck to his post. The obstinacy of hatred was be- 
ing gradually overcome by the superior pertinacity of zeal 
in a good cause, and the invariable practice — so incompre- 
hensible to the savage mind — of returning good for evil. 
The result was that the Sabbath bell still sent its tinkling 
sound over the verdant slopes above Sandy Cove, and the 
hymn of praise still arose, morning and evening, from the 
little church, which, composed partly of wood, partly of 
coral rock, had been erected under the eye, and, to a large 
extent, by the hands of the missionary. 

But false friends within the camp were more dangerous 
and troublesome to Mr. Mason than avowed enemies with- 
out. Some of the European traders, especially, who settled 


24 GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. 

Oil the island a few years after the missionary had made it 
habitable, were the worst foes he had to contend with. 

In the same vessel that brought the missionary to the 
island, there came a widow, Mrs. Stuart, with her son 
Henry, then a stout lad of thirteen. The widow was not, 
however, a member of the missionary's household. She 
came there to settle with her son, who soon built her a 
rudely constructed but sufficiently habitable hut, which, in 
after years, was inclosed, and greatly improved; so that it 
at last assumed the dimensions of a rambling picturesque 
cottage, whitewashed, brilliant, and neat it its setting of 
bright green. 

The widow, although not an official assistant to the mis- 
sionary, was nevertheless a most efficient one. She taught 
in his schools, being familiar with the native tongue; and, 
when the settlement grew in numbers, both of white and 
black, she became known as the good angel of the jilace — 
the one who was ever ready with sympathy for the sorrow- 
ful, and comfort for the dying. She was fair and frag-ile, 
and had been exceedingly beautiful; but care had stamped 
his mark deeply in her brow. Neither care nor time, how- 
ever, could mar the noble outline of her fine features, or 
equal the love that beamed in her gentle eyes. 

The widow was a great mystery to the gossips of Sandy 
Cove; for there are gossips even in the most distant isles of 
the sea. Some men (we refer, of course, to white men) 
thought that she must have been the wife of an admiral at 
least, and had fallen into distressed circumstances, and gone 
to these islands to hide her poverty. Others said she was a 
female Jesuit in disguise, sent there to counteract the 
preaching of the gospel by the missionary. A few even 
ventured to hint their opinion that she was an outlaw or 
something of that sort, ’"’ and shrewdly suspected that Mr. 
Mason knew more about her than he was pleased to tell. 
But no one, either by word or look, had ever ventured to 
express an opinion of any kind to herself, or in the hearing 
of her son. The latter, indeed, displayed such uncommon 
breadth of shoulders, and such unusual development of 
muscle, that it was seldom necessary for him — even in 
those savage regions and wild times — to display anything 
else in order to make men respectful. 

While our three Hdends were doing justice to the bacon 
and bread-fruit set before theni by Widow Stuart, the widow 


GASCOYKE, THE SAHDAL-WOOD TRADER. 


25 


herself was endeavoring to repress some strong feeling, 
Avhich caused her breast to heave more than once, and in- 
duced her to turn to some trifling piece of household duty 
to conceal her emotion. These symptoms were not lost 
upon her son, whose suspicions and anger had been aroused 
by the familiarity of Gascoyne. Making some excuse for 
leaving the room, toward the conclusion of the meal, he 
followed his mother to an out-house, whither she had gone 
to fetch some fresh milk. 

“ Mother,^'’ said Henry, respectfully, yet with an un- 
wonted touch of sternness in his voice; “ there is some mys- 
tery connected with this man Gascoyne that I feel convinced 
you can clear up — 

‘‘ Dear Henry, interrupted the widow, and her cheek 
grew pale as she spoke, “ do not, I beseech you, press me 
on this subject. I can not clear it up.^'’ 

‘‘ Say you will not, mother,^ ' answered Heniy, in a tone 
of disappointment. 

‘‘ I would if I dared,^^ continued the widow. The time 
may come when I — 

‘‘ But why not now,^^ urged the youth, hastily. “ I am 
old enough, surely, to he trusted. During the four visits 
this* man has paid to us, I have observed a degree of 
familiarity on his part which no man has a right to exhibit 
toward you; and which, did I not see that you permit it, 
no man would dare to show. Why do you allow him to 
call you ‘ Mary No one else in the settlement does so.'^ 

‘‘ He is a very old friend, replied the widow, sadly. ‘‘ I 
have known him from childhood. We were playmates 
long ago. 

Humph! thaBs some sort of reason, no doubt; but you 
doiTt appear to like him, and his presence always seems to 
give you pain. Why do you sufler yourself to be annoyed 
%him? Only say the word, mother, and I’ll kick him 
out of the house, neck and crop — ” 

Hush, boy; you are too violent.” 

“ Too violent! Why, it would make a coward violent to 
see his mother tormented as you are by this fellow, and not 
be allowed to put a stop to it. I suspect — ” 

“ Henry,” said the widow, again interrupting her exas- 
perated son, do you think your mother would do what is 
wrong?” 

Mother,” exclaimed the youth, seizing her hand, and 


2G GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOH TRADER. 

kissing her brow almost violently, I would as soon think 
that the angels above would do wrong; but I firmly 
believe that you are suffering wrong to be done io you j 
and — just listen to the fellow! I do believe he’s howling 
for more bacon at this moment!” 

There could be no doubt whatever about the fact; for 
just then the deep tones of Gascoyne’s voice rang through 
the cottage, as he reiterated the name of the widow, who 
hastened away, followed by her son. Henry scarcely took 
the trouble to conceal the frown that darkened his brow as 
he re-entered the apartment where his companions were 
seated. 

‘‘ Why, Mary, your bacon surpassess anything I have 
tasted for the last six months; let’s have another rasher, 
like a good woman. That mountain air sharpens the 
appetite amazingly; especially of men who are more accus- 
tomed to mount the rigging of a ship than the hills on 
shore. What say you, John Bumpus?” 

John Bumpus could not at that moment say anything, 
in consequence of his mouth being so full of the bacon re- 
ferred to that there was no room for a single word to pass 
his lips. In the height of his good-humor, however, ho 
did his best by signs to express his entire approval of the 
widow’s provender, and even attempted to speak. In so 
doing he choked himself, and continued in convulsions for 
the next five minutes, to the immense delight of the cap- 
tain, who vowed he had never before seen such a blue face 
in the whole course of his life. 

While this scene was enacting, and ere Jo Bumpus had 
effectually wiped away the tears from his eyes, and cleared 
the bacon out of his windpipe, the door opened, and the 
commander of H. M. S. “ Talisman ” entered. 

Edmund Montague was a young man to hold such a re- 
sponsible position in the navy; but he was a bold, vigorous 
little Englishman — a sort of gentlemanly and well-educated 
John Bull terrier; of frank address, agreeable manners, 
and an utterly reckless temperament, which was qualified 
and curbed, however, by good sense and hard-earned ex- 
perience. 

“ Good-day to you, Mrs. Stuart; I trust you will forgive 
my abrupt intrusion, but urgent business must be my ex- 
cuse. I have called to have a little further conversation 
with your son respecting that rascally pirate who has given 


GASCOYKE^ THE SAHDAL-WOOD TRADER. 27 

me so much trouble. If he will have the goodness to take 
a short walk with me, I shall be much indebted. 

^ ^ “ By all means, said Henry, rising and putting on his 
cap. 

“ Perhaps,^ said Gascoyne, as they were about to leave 
the room, ‘‘ if the comnaander of the ‘ Talisman ^ would 
condescend to take a little information from a stranger, he 
' might learn something to the purpose regarding the pirate 
' Hurward; for he it is, I presume, of whom you are in 
search. 

I shall be happy to gain information from any source, 
replied Montague, eying the captain narrowly. Are you 
a resident in this island?'’^ 

“Ho, I am not; my home is on the sea, and has been 
since I was a lad. 

“Ah! you have fallen in with this pirate, then, on your 
native ocean, I fancy, and have disagreeable cause to re- 
member him, perchance, said Montague, smiling. “ Has 
he given you much trouble?^^ 

“ Ay, that he has,'’^ replied Gascoyne, with a sudden 
scowl of ferocity. “ Ho one in these seas has received so 
much annoyance from him as I have. Any one who could 
rid them of his presence would do good service to the cause 
of humanity. But,"'^ he added, while a grim smile over- 
spread his handsome face, “ it is said that few vessels can 
cope with his schooner in speed, and I can answer for it 
that he is a bold man, fond of fighting, with plenty of 
reckless cut-throats to back him, and more likely to give 
chase to a sloop-of-war than to show her his heels. I trust 
you are well manned and armed. Captain Montague; for 
this Durward is a desperate fellow, I assure you. 

The young commander^s countenance fiushed as he re- 
plied, “ Your anxiety on my account, sir, is quite uncalled 
for. Had I nothing but my own long-boat wherewith to 
attack this pirate, it would be my duty to do so. I had 
scarcely expected to find unmanly fears exhibited in one so 
stalwart in appearance as you are. Perhaps it may relieve 
you to know that I am both well manned and armed. It 
is not usual for a British man-of-war to cruise in distant 
seas in a less suitable condition to protect her fiag. And 
yet, methinks, one who has spent so many years of his life 
on salt water might know the difference between a frigate 
and a sloop-of-war.^^ 


2S GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TKADER. 

‘‘ Be not so hasty, young man,^-’ answered Gascoyne, 
gravely; “ you are not on your own quarter-deck Just now. 
There ought to be civility between strangers. I may, in- 
deed, be very ignorant of the cut and rig of British war 
vessels, seeing that I am but a plain trader in seas where 
ships of war are not often wont to unfurl their flags, but 
there can be no harm, and there was meant no offense, in 
warning you to be on your guard. 

A tinge of sarcasm still lingered in Captain Montague’s 
tone as he replied, ‘‘ Well, I thank you for the caution. 
But to come to the point, what know you of this pirate — 
this Durward, as he calls himself; though I have no doubt 
he has sailed under so many aliases that he may have for- 
gotten his real name.’^ 

‘‘ I know him to be a villain,” replied Gascoyne. 

‘‘ That much I know as well as you,” said Montague. 

“ And yet it is said he takes fits of remorse at times, and 
would fain change his way of life if he could,’ ’ continued 
Gascoyne. 

‘‘That I might guess,” returned the other; “most 
wicked men have their seasons of remorse. Can you tell 
me nothing of him more definite than this, friend?” 

“ I can tell you that he is the very bane of my exist- 
ence,” said Gascoyne, the angry expression again flitting for 
a moment across his countenance. “ He not only pursues 
and haunts me like my own shadow, hut he gets me into 
scrapes by passing his schooner off for mine when he is 
caught.” 

The young officer glanced in surprise at the speaker as 
. he uttered these words. 

“Indeed,” said he, “that is a strange confusion of 
ideas. So, then, the two schooners bear so strong a resem- 
blance as to be easily mistaken for each other?” 

“ They are twins. They were built at the same time, 
from the same molds, and were intended for the sandal- 
wood trade between these islands and Calcutta, Manilla, 
and Australia. One of them, the ‘ Avenger,’ was seized on 
her first voyage by this Durward, then mate of the 
schooner, and has ever since scoured the South Seas as a 
pirate; the other, named the ‘ Foam,’ which I have the 
misfortune to command, still continues the traffic for which 
she was originally built. ’ ’ 

“ Ha!” exclaimed Montague, turning suddenly round 


GASCOYKE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADER. 29 

with an inquiring gaze at the stalwart figure of the sandal- 
wood trader; “it is most fortunate that I have met with 
you, Mr. Gascoyne. I doubt not that you can conduct me 
to this vessel of yours, so that I may know the pirate when 
I fall in with him. If the two vessels resemble each other 
so closely, a sight of the ‘ Foam will be of great service to 
me in my search after the ‘ Avenger. 

“ You are most welcome to a sight of my craft,^^ replied 
Gascoyne. “ The only difference between' the two is, that 
the figurehead of the pirate is a griffin^s head, painted 
scarlet; that of my schooner is a female, painted white. 
There is also a red streak round the sides of the pirate; the 
hull of the ^Foam is entirely black.'’-’ 

“ Will you come on board my vessel, and accompany me 
in one of my boats to yours inquired Montague. 

“ That is impossible,'’' replied Gascoyne. “ 1 came here 
on urgent business, which will not brook delay; but my 
schooner lies on the other side of the island. If you pull 
round, my mate will receive you. You will find him a 
most intelligent and hospitable man. He will conduct you 
over the vessel, and give you all the information you may 
deisre. Meanwhile,-’'’ added the captain of the “ Foam,'’' 
rising and putting on his cap, “ I must bid you adieu." 

“ Nay, but you have not yet told me when or where you 
last saw or heard of this remarkable pirate, who is so 
clever at representing other people, perhaps I should rather 
say misrepresenting them,'’'’ said Montague, with a mean- 
ing smile. 

“ I saw him no longer ago than this morning,'’-’ replied 
Gascoyne, gravely. “He is now in these waters, with 
what intent I know not, unless from his unnatural delight 
in persecuting me, or, perhaps, because fate has led him 
into the very jaws of the lion. '’'’ 

“ Humph! he will find that I bite before I roar, if he 
does get between my teeth," said the young officer, 

“ Surely you are mistaken, Gascoyne,-’-’ interposed Henry 
Stuart, who, along with John Bumpus, had hitherto been 
silent listeners to the foregoing conversation. “ Several of 
our people have been out fishing among the islands, and 
have neither seen nor heard of this redoubted pirate. '’'’ 

“ That is possible enough, boy; but I have seen him, 
nevertheless, and I shall be much surprised if you do not 
see and hear more of him than you desire before many 


30 GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TEADEK. 

days ‘are out. That villain does not sail the seas for pas- 
time, you may depend on it/'’ 

As Gascoyne said this, the outer door of the house was 
burst violently open, and the loud voice of a boy was heard 
in the porch or short passage that intervened between it 
and the principal apartment of the cottage, shouting 
wildly — 

‘“^Ho! hallo! hurrah! I say. Widow Stuart! Henry! 
here’s a business — sichfun! only think, the pirate’s turned 
up at last, and murdered half the niggers in — ” 

There was an abrupt stoppage both of the voice and the 
muscular action of this juvenile tornado as he threw open 
the door with a crash, and, instead of the wiow or her son, 
met the gaze of so many strangers. The boy stood for a 
few seconds on the threshold, with his curly brown hair 
disheveled, and his dark eyes staring in surprise, first at 
one, then at another of the party, until at length they 
alighted on John Bumpus« The mouth which up to that 
moment had formed a round 0 of astonishment relaxed 
into a broad grin, and, with sudden energy, exclaimed: 
“ What a grampus!” 

Having uttered this complimentary remark, the urchin 
was about to retreat, when Henry made a sudden dart at 
liim, and caught him by the collar. 

“Where got you the news. Will Corrie?” said Henry, 
giving the boy a squeeze with his strong hand. 

“ Oh, please, be merciful, Henry, and I’ll tell you all 
about it. But, pray, don’t give me over to that grampus,” 
cried the lad, pretending to whimper. “ I got the news 
from a feller, that said he’d got it from a feller, that saw 
a feller, who said he’d heard a feller tell another feller, 
that he saw a Uach feller in the bush, somewhere or other 
’tween this and the other end o’ the island, with a shot- 
hole in his right arm, running like a cogolampus, with ten 
pirates in full chase. Ah! oh! have mercy, Henry; really, 
my constitution will break down if you — ” 

“ Silence, you chatterbox! and give me a reasonable 
account of what you have heard or seen, if you can.” 

The volatile urchin, who might have been about thirteen 
years of age, became preternaturally grave all of a sudden, 
and, looking up earnestly in his questioner’s face, said, 
“ Really, Henry, you are becoming unreasonable in your 


GASCOYlSrE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADER. 31 

old age, to ask me to give you a reasonable account of a 
thing, and at the same time to be silent 

“ ril tell you what, Corrie, 1^11 throttle you if you don^t 
speak, said Henry. 

‘‘ Ah! you couldnH,^’ pleaded Corrie, in a tone of deep 
pathos. 

‘‘ P^raps,^^ observed John Bumpus, ‘‘ ph-aps if you hand 
over the young genJ^m^n to the ‘ grampus,'’ hell make him 
speak. 

On hearing this, the boy set up a howl of alfected 
despair, and suffered Henry to lead him unresistingly to 
within a few feet of Bumpus; but, just as he was within an 
inch of the huge fist of that nautical monster, he suddenly 
wrenched his collar out of his captor’s grasp, darted to the 
door, turned round on the threshold, hit the side of his 
own nose a sounding slap with the forefinger of his right 
hand, uttered an unexpressively savage yell, vanished from 
the scene, and, 

“Like the baseless fabric of a vision, 

Left not a wreck beliind,” 

except the wreck of the milk-saucer of the household cat, 
which sagacious creature had wisely taken to flight at the 
first symptom of war. 

The boy was instantly folio ived by Henry, but so light 
was his foot, that the' fastest runner in the settlement had 
to penetrate the woods immediately behind his mother’s 
house for a quarter of a mile before he succeeded in again 
laying hold of the refractoiy lad’s collar. 

‘MVhat do you mean, Corrie, by such conduct?” said 
his captor, shaking him vigorously.. I have half a mind 
to give you a wallopping. ” 

Never do anything by halves, Henry,” said the boy, 
mildly. 1 never do. It’s a bad habit; always go the 
whole length or none. Now that we are alone. I’ll give 
you a reasonable account of what I know, if you’ll remove 
your hand from my collar. You forget that I am growing, 
and that, when I am big enough, the; day of reckoning be- 
tween us will surely come!” 

“ But why would you not give me the information I 
want in the house? The people you saw there are as much 
interested in it as I am. ” 

“Oh! are they?” returned Corrie, with a glance of 


GASCOYNE, THE SAN DAE- WOOD TRADER. 

peculiar meaniiig; “jjerhaps they are more interested tlian 
you are. 

“ How so?^^ 

how do I know, and how do you know, that 
these feflows are not pirates in disguise?'’^ 

Because,^'’ said Henry, one of them is an old friend — 
that is, an acquaintance — at least a sort of intimate, wlio 
has been many and many a time at our house before, and 
my mother knows him well. I can^t say I like him — that 
is to say, I don^t exactly like some of his ways — though I 
don^txhslike the man himself. 

A most unsatisfactory style of reply, Heniy, for a man 
— ah, beg pardon, a boy — of your straightforward char- 
acter. Which o’ the three are you speaking of — the 
grampus?” 

“ No, the other big, handsome-looking fellow.” 

“ And you’re sure you’ve known him long?” continued 
the boy, while an expression of perplexity flitted over his 

“ Quite sure; why?” 

“ Because / have seen you often enough, and your house 
a7id your mother — not to mention your cat and your pigs, 
and liens; but I’ve never seen him before to-day.” 

That’s because he usually comes at night, and seldom 
stays more than an hour or two.” 

‘‘A most uncomfortable style of acquaintance,” said 
Corrie, trying to look wise, which was an utterly futile 
effort, seeing that his countenance was fat and round and 
rosy, and very much the reverse of philosophical. ‘‘ But 
how do you know that the grampus is not the 2 )irate?” 
Because he is one of Gascoyne’s men.” 

“Oh! his name is Gascoyne, is it? a most piratical name 
it is. However, since he is your friend, Henry, it’s all 
right; what’s tother’s name?” 

“ Bumpus — John Bumpus.” 

On hearing this, the boy clapped both hands to his sides, 
expanded his eyes and mouth, showed his teeth, and Anally 
gave vent to roars of uncontrollable laughter, swaying his 
body about the while as if in agony. 

“ Oh‘ dear!” he cried, after a time, “ John Bumpus, ha! 
ha! ha! what a name! John Bumpus, ha! ha! the gram- 
pus — why, it’s magnificent, ha! ha!” and again tlie boy 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. 33 

gave free vent to his merriment, while his companion 
looked on with a quiet grin of amusement. 

Presently Oorrie became grave, and said, But what of 
the third, the little chap, all over gold lace? P^^^aps he^s 
the pirate. He looked bold enough almost for any thing. 

“ Why, you goose, that^s the commander of His Britan- 
nic Majesty^s frigate ‘ Talisman. 

‘‘ Indeed? I hope His Britannic Majesty has many more 
like him.^^ 

“ Plenty more like him. But come, boy; what have you 
heard of this pirate, and what do you mean about a 
wounded nigger?^ ^ 

“ I just mean this,^^ answered the lad, suddenly becom- 
ing serious, “ that when I was out on the mountain 
this morning, I thought I would cross the ridge, and when 
I did so, the first thing I saw was a schooner lying in the 
bay at the foot of the hill, where you and I have so often 
gone chasing pigs together. Well, being curious to know 
what sort of a craft she was, I went down the hill, intend- 
in'’ to go aboard; but before got half way through the 
cocoa-nut grove, I heard a horrible yell of a savage. So, 
thinks I, here comes them blackguard pagans again, to 
attack the settlement; and before I could hide out of the 
way, a naked savage almost ran into my arms. He was 
sea-green in the face with fright, and blood was running 
over his right arm. 

“ The moment he saw me, instead of splitting me up 
with his knife and eating me alive, as these fellers are so 
fond of doin'’, he gave a start, and another great cry, and 
doubled on his track like a hare. His cry was answered by 
a shout from half a dozen sailors, who burst out of the 
thicket at that moment, and I saw they were in pursuit of 
him. Down I went at once behind a thick bush, and the 
whole lot o’ the blind bats passed right on in full cry, within 
half an inch of my nOse. And I never saw sich a set o’ 
piratical-looking villains since I was born. I felt quite sure 
that yon schooner is the pirate that has been doing so much 
mischief hereabouts; so I came back as fast as my legs 
could carry me, to tell you what I had seen. There, you 
have got all that I know of the matter now. ” 

“You are wrong, boy. The schooner you saw is not the 
pirate; it is the ‘Foam.’ Strange, very strange!” mut- 
tered Henry. 

s 


34 GASCOYl^E, THE SANDAL-WOOD TKADER. 

Wliat^s strange inquired the lad. 

“Not the appearance of the wounded nigger/^ answered 
the other; “ I can explain all about him, but the sailors — 
that puzzles me.'’'’ 

Henry then related the morning’s adventure to his 
young companion. 

“ But,” continued he, after detailing all that the reader 
already knows, “ I can not comprehend how the pirates 
you speak of could have landed without their vessel being 
in sight; and that nothing is to be seen from the mount- 
ain-tops except the ‘ Talisman ’ on the one side of the 
island and the ‘ Foam ’ on the other, I can vouch for. 
Boats might lie concealed among the rocks on the shore, 
no doubt. But no boats would venture to put ashore with 
hostile intentions, unless the ship to which they belonged 
were within sight. As for the crew of the ‘ Foam,’ they 
are ordinary seamen, and not likely to amuse themselves 
chasing wounded savages, even if they were allowed to go 
ashore, which I think is not likely; for Gascoyne knows 
well enough that that side of the island is inhabited by the 
pagans, who would as soon kill and eat a man as they 
would a pig.” 

“ Sooner — the monsters!” exclaimed the boy, indignant- 
ly; for he had, on more than one occasion, been an eye- 
witness of the horrible practice of cannibalism which pre- 
vails, even at the present day, among some of the South 
Sea Islanders. 

“There is a mystery here,” said Henry, starting up, 
“ and the sooner we alarm the people of the settlement, the 
better. Come, Corrie, we shall return to the house, and 
left the British officer hear what you have told me.” 

When the lad had finished relating his adventure to the 
party in Widow Stuart’s cottage, Gascoyne said quietly, 

I would advise you. Captain Montague, to return to your 
ship and make your preparations for capturing this pirate, 
for that he is even now almost within range of your guns, 
I have not the slightest doubt. As to the men appearing 
piratical-looking fellows to this boy, I don’t wonder at that; 
most men are wild enough when their blood is up. Some 
of my own men are as savage to look at as one would de- 
sire. But I gave strict orders this morning that only a few 
were to go ashore, and these were to keep well out of sight 
of the settlement of the savages. Doubtless they are all 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. 35 

aboard by this time. If you decide upon anything like a 
hunt among the mountains, I can lend you a few hands. 

“ Thank you. I may perhaps require some of your 
hands, said Montague, with a dash of sarcasm in his tone; 
“ meanwhile, since you will not favor me with your com- 
pany on board, I shall bid you good-afternoon. 

He bowed stiffly, and, leaving the cottage, hastened on 
board his ship, where the shrill notes of the boatswain^s 
whistle, and the deep hoarse tones of that offlcer’s gruft* 
voice, quickly announced to the people on shore that orders 
had been promptly given, and were in course of being as 
promptly obeyed. 

During the hour that followed these events, the captain 
of the ‘‘ Foam was closeted with Widow Stuart and her 
son, and the youthful Corrie was engaged in laying the 
foundations of a never-to-die friendship with J.ohn Bumpus, 
or, as that eccentric youngster preferred to style him, Jo 
Grampus. 


CHAPTER V. 

THE PASTOR^S HOUSEHOLD. — PREPARATIONS POR WAR. 

When the conference in . the widow ^s cottage closed, 
Henry Stuart and Gascoyne hastened into the woods to- 
gether, and followed a narrow footpath which led toward 
the interior of the island. Arriving at a spot where this 
path branched into two, Henry took the one that ran round 
the outskirts of the settlement toward the residence of Mr. 
Mason, while his companion pursued the other which struck 
into the recesses of the mountains. 

“ Come in,-’-’ cried the missionary, as Henry knocked at 
the door of his study. ‘‘ Ah, Henry, I^m glad to see you. 
You were in my thoughts this moment. I have come to a 
difflculty in my drawings of the spire of our new church, 
and I want your fertile imagination to devise some plan 
whereby we may overcome it. But of that I shall speak 
presently. I see from your looks that more important 
matters have brought you hither. Nothing wrong at the 
cottage, I trust?^^ 

“No, nothing — that is to say, not exactly wrong; but 
things, I fear, are not altogether right in the settlement. I 
have had an unfortunate rencounter tliis morning with one 


36 GASCOYKE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TKADER. 

of the savages, which is likely to lead to mischief; for blood 
was drawn, and I know the fellow to be revengeful. In 
addition to this, it is suspected that Durward, the pirate, 
is hovering among the islands, and meditates a descent on 
us. How much truth there may be in the report I can not 
pretend to guess; but Gascoyne, the captain of the ‘ Foam,^ 
has been over at our cottage, and says he has seen the 
pirate, and that there is no saying what he may venture to 
attempt; for he is a bold fellow, and, as you know, can 
not have a good will to missionary settlements. ^ ^ 

‘‘ Fm not so sure of that,^^ said the pastor, in answer to 
the last remark. “It is well known that wherever a 
Christian settlement is founded in these islands, that place 
becomes a safe port for vessels of all sorts — pirates as well 
as others, if they sail under false colors and pretend to be 
honest traders — while in all the other islands, it is equally 
well known, the only safety one can count on, in landing, 
is superior force. But I am grieved to hear of your affray 
with the native. I hope that life will not be sacrificed. 

“ No fear of that; the rascal got only a fiesh- wound. 

Here the young man related his adventure of the morn- 
ing, and finished by asking what the pastor advised should 
be done in the way of precaution. 

“ It seems to me,'’^ said Mr. Mason, gravely, “ that our 
chief difficulty will be to save ourselves from our friends — 

“ Would friends harm us, father asked a sweet, soft 
voice at the pastor ^s elbow. Next moment Alice Mason 
was seated on her father^ s knee, gazing up in his face with 
an expression of undisguised amazement. 

Alice was a fair, delicate, gentle child. Twelve summers 
and winters had passed over her little head without a cloud 
to obscure the sunshine of her life save one; but that one 
was a terribly dark one, and its shadow lingered over her 
for many years. When Alice lost her mother, she lost the 
joy and delight of her existence; and although six years 
had passed since that awful day, and a fond Christian 
father had done his best to impress on her young mind that 
the beloved one was not fost forever, but would one day be 
found sitting at the feet of Jesus in a bright and beautiful 
world, the poor child could not recover her former elasticity 
of spirits. Doubtless her isolated position, and the want of 
suitable companions, had something to do with the pro- 
longed sadness of her little heart. 


. GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL WOOD-TRADEK. 37 

It is almost unnecessary to say that her love for her 
father was boundless. Tliis was natural, but it did not 
seem by any means so natural that the delicate child should 
give the next place in her heart to a wild little boy, a black 
girl, and a ragged little dog! Yet so it was, and it would 
have been difficult for the closest observer to tell which of 
these three Alice liked best. 

No one could so frequently draw forth the merry laugh 
that in former days had rung so sweetly over the hill-sides 
of the verdant isle as our young friend Will Oorrie. Noth- 
ing Dould delight the heart of the child so much as to wit- 
ness the mad gambols, not to mention the mischievous 
deeds, of that ragged little piece of an old door-mat, which, 
in virtue of its being possessed of animal life, was named 
Toozle. And when Alice wished to talk quietly — to pour 
out her heart, and sometimes her tears — the bosom she 
sought on which to lay her head, next to her father^s, was 
that of her useful nursery-maid, a good, kind, and gentle, 
but an awfully stupid native girl, named Kekupoopi. 

This name was, of course, reduced in its fair proportions 
by little Alice, who, however, retained the latter part 
thereof in preference to the former, and styled her maid 
Poopy. Young Master Corrie, on the other hand, called 
her feckup or Puppy, indifferently, according to the humor 
he chanced to be in when he met her, or to the word that 
rose most readily to his lips, 

Mr. Mason replied to the question put by Alice, at the 
beginning of this somewhat lengthy digression, “ ISio, my 
lamb, friends would not willingly do us harm; but there 
are those who call themselves friends who do not deserve 
the name, who pretend to be such, but who are in reality 
secret enemies. But go, dearest, to your room; I am busy 
just now talking with Henry: he, at least, is a trusty 
friend. When I have done, you shall come back to me.^^ 

Alice kissed her father, and, getting off his knee, went 
at once in search of her friend Poopy. 

That dark-skinned and curly black-headed domestic was 
in the kitchen, seated on the bottom of an overturned iron 
pot, inside the dingy niche in which the domestic fire was 
wont to burn when anything of a culinary nature was going 
on. At the time when her mistress entered, nothing of the 
kind was in progress, and the fire had subsided to extinc- 
tion. 


38 


GASCOYKE, THE SAHDAL-WOOD TKADEK. 


The girl, who might have been any age between twelve 
and sixteen — nearer the latter, perhaps, than the former — 
was gazing with expressionless eyes straight before her, and 
thinking, evidently, of — nothing. She was clothed in a 
white tunic, from which her black legs, arms, neck, and 
head protruded — forming a startling contrast therewith. 

“ Oh Poopy! what a bad girl you are!^^ cried Alice, 
laughing, as she observed where her maid was seated. 

Poopy ^s visage at once beamed with a look of good- 
humor, a wide gash suddenly appeared somewhere near her 
chin, displaying a double row of brilliant teeth surrounded 
by red gums; at the same time the whites of her eyes dis- 
appeared, because, being very plump, it was a physical im- 
possibility that she should laugh and keep them uncovered. 

“ Hee! hee!^'’ exclaimed Poopy. 

AVe are really sorry to give the reader a false impression, 
as we feel that we have done, of our friend Kekupoopi, but 
a regard for truth compels us to show the worst of her char- 
acter first. She was not demonstrative; and the few words 
and signs by which she endeavored to communicate the 
state of her feelings to the outward world were not easily 
interpreted except by those who knew her well. There is 
no doubt whatever that Poopy was — ^we scarcely like to use 
the expression, but we know of no other more appropriate — 
a donkey! We hasten to guard ourselves from misconstruc- 
tion here. That word, if used in an ill-natured and pas- 
sionate manner, is a bad one, and by no means to be coun- 
tenanced; but, as surgeons may cut olf legs at times, 
without thereby sanctioning the indiscriminate practice of 
amputation in a miscellaneous sort of way as a pastime, so 
this otherwise objectionable word may, we think, be used 
to bring out a certain trait of character in full force. 
Holding this opinion, and begging the reader to observe 
that we make the statement gravely and in an entirely 
philosophical way, we repeat that Poopy was, figuratively 
speaking, a donkey! 

Yet she was an amiable, affectionate, good girl for all 
that, with an amount of love in her heart for her young 
mistress which words can not convey, and which it is no 
wonder, therefore, that Poopy herself could not adequately 
express either by word or look. 

‘‘IPs all very well for you to sit there and say ‘ Hee! 
hee!^^' cried Alice, advancing to the fire-place; ‘‘ but you 


GASCOYKE, THE SANDAL- AVOOI) TRADEK. 39 

must have made a dreadful mark on your clean white 
frock. Get up and turn round. 

“ Hee! hee!” exclaimed the girl, as she obeyed the man- 
date. 

The “ Oh! oh I! oh!!P^ that hurst from Alice, on observ- 
ing the pattern of the pot neatly printed off on Poopy^s 
garment, was so emphatic that the girl became impressed 
with the fact that she had done something wrong, and 
twisted her head and neck in a most alarming manner in a 
series of vain attempts to behold the extent of the damage. 

“ What a figure!’^ exclaimed Alice, on recovering from 
the first shock. 

“ It vill vash,^^ said Poopy, in a deprecatory tone. 

I hope it will,'^ replied Alice, shaking her head doubt- 
fully; for her experience in the laundry had not yet been 
so extensive as to enable her to pronounce at once on the 
eradicability of such a frightfully deep impression. While 
she was still shaking her head in dubiety on this point, and 
while Poopy was still making futile attempts to obtain a 
view of the spot, the door of the kitchen opened, and 
Master Corrie swaggered in, with his hands thrust into the 
outer pockets of his jacket, his shirt collar thrown very 
much open, and his round straw hat placed very much on 
the back of his head; for, having seen some of the crew of 
the Talisman, he had been smitten with a strong desire 
to imitate a man-of-war^ s-man in aspect and gait. 

At his heels came that scampering mass of ragged door- 
mat Toozle, who, feeling that a sensation of some kind or 
other was being got up for his amusement, joined heartily 
in the shout of delight that burst from the youthful Oor- 
rie when he beheld the extraordinary figure in the fire-place. 

Well, I say, Kickup,"’"’ cried the youth, picking up his 
hat, which had fallen off in the convulsion, and drying his 
tears, “ you^re a sweet-lookin^ creetur, you are! Is this a 
new frock youVe got to go to church with? Come, I 
rather like that pattern; but there^s not quite enough of 
^em. Suppose I lend a hand and print a few more all 
over you? There’s plenty of pots and pans here to do it; 
and if Alice will bring down her white frock ITl give it a 
touch up too.” 

“ How can you talk such nonsense, Corrie!” said Alice, 
laughing. ‘‘ Down, Toozle; silence, sir. Go, my dear 


40 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. 


Poopy, and put on another frock; and make haste, for Pve 
something to say to you. 

Thus admonished, the girl ran to a small apartment that 
opened off the kitchen, and speedily reappeared in another 
tunic. Meanwhile, Oorrie had seated himself on the floor, 
with Toozle between his knees and Alice on a stool at his 
side. Poopy, in a fit of absence of mind, was about to re- 
sume her seat on the iron pot, when a simultaneous shriek, 
bark, and roar recalled her scattered faculties, produced a 
‘‘ hee! heefl^ varied with a faint ‘‘ ho! and induced her 
to sit down on the floor beside her mistress. 

“ Now, tell me, Poopy, said Alice, “ did you ever hear 
of friends who were not really friends, but enemies?^ ^ 

The girl stared with a vacant countenance at the bright, 
intelligent face of the child, and shook her head slowly. 

‘‘Why donH you ask me 9” inquired Corrie. “You 
might as well ask Toozle as that potato Kickup. Eh? 
Puppy, don^t you confess that you are no better than a 
vegetable? Come, now, be honest. 

“ Heel hee!’^ replied Poopy. 

“ Humph! I thought so. But that^s an odd question of 
yours, Alice. What do you mean by it?^^ 

“ I mean that my papa thinks there are friends in the 
settlement who are enemies. 

“ Does he, though? Now that^s mysterious,^ ^ said the 
boy, becoming suddenly grave. “ That requires to be 
looked to. Come, Alice, tell me all the particulars. DonT 
omit anything — our lives may depend on it. ^ ^ 

The deeply serious manner in which Oorrie said this so 
impressed and solemnized the child, that she related, word 
for word, the brief conversation she had had with her 
father, and all that she had heard of the previous converse 
between him and Henry. 

When she had concluded. Master Corrie threw a still 
more grave and profoundly philosophical expression into 
his chubby face, and asked, in a hollow tone of voice, 
“ Your father didiiT say anything against the Grampus, 
did he?” 


“ The what?” inquired Alice. 

“ The Grampus — the man, at least, whom I call the 
Grampus, and who calls hisself Jo Bumpus."’^ 

“ I did not hear such names mentioned; but Henry 
spoke of a wounded nigger. ” 


GASCOYKE, THE SAHDAL-WOOD TRADER. 41 

Ay, they^re all a set of false rascals together, said 
Corrie. 

“-Niggers ob dis here settlement is good mans, ebery 
von,^’ said Poopy, promptly. 

“Hallo! Kickup, wot^s wrong? I never heard you say 
so much at one time since I came to this place. 

“ Niggers is good peepils,^^ reiterated the girl. 

“ So they are. Puppy, and you're the best of 'em; but I 
was speakin' of the fellers on the other side of the island — 
d'ye see?" 

“ Hee! heel" ejaculated the girl. 

“ Well, but what makes you so anxious?" said Alice, 
looking earnestly into the boy's face. 

Corrie laid his hand on her head and stroked her fair 
hair as he replied : 

“ This is a serious matter, Alice; I must go at once and 
see your father about it. " 

He rose with an air of importance, as if about to leave 
the kitchen. 

“Oh! but please don't go till you have told me what it 
is; I'm so frightened," said Alice; “ do stay and tell me 
about it before you go to papa. " 

“ Well, I don't mind if I do," said the boy, sitting down 
again. “'You must know then, that it's reported there are 
pirates on the island." 

“ Oh!" exclaimed Alice. 

“ D'ye know what pirates are. Puppy?" 

“ Hee! hee!" answered the girl. 

“ I do believe she don't know nothin'," said the boy, 
looking at her with an air of compassion; “ wot a sad 
thing it is to belong to a lower species of human natur' ! 
Well, I s'pose it can't be helped. A pirate, Kickup, is a 
sea-robber. D'ye understand?" 

“Ho! ho!" 

“ Ay, I thought so. Well, Alice, I am told that there's 
been a lot o' them landed on the island and took to chasin' 
and killin' the niggers, and Henry was all but killed by one 
o' the niggers, this very morning, an' was saved by a big 
feller that's a mystery to me, and by the Grampus, who is 
the best feller I ever met— a regular trump, he is; and 
there's all sorts o' doubts, and fears, and rumors, and 
things of that sort, with a captain of the British navy, that 
you and I have read so much about, trying to find this 


42 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TEADEE. 


pirate out, arrd suspectin^ everybody he meets is him. I 
only hope he won^t take it into his stupid head to mistake 
me for him — not so unlikely a thing, after all. And the 
youthful Corrie shook his head with much gravity as he 
. surveyed his rotund little legs complacently. 

“ What are you laughing at?^^ he added, suddenly, on 
observing that a bright smile had overspread Alicea’s face. 

‘‘ At the idea of you being taken for a pirate,^ ^ said the 
child. 

1 “Hee! hee! ho! ho!^^ remarked Poopy. 

' “ Silence, you lump of black putty!” thundered the as- 

piring youth. 

“ Come, don’t be cross to my maid,” said Alice, quickly. 

Corrie laughed, and was about to continue his discourse 
on the events and rumors of the day, when Mr. Mason’s 
voice was heard at the other end of the house. 

“Ho! Corrie!” 

“ That’s me,” cried the boy, promptly springing up and 
rushing out of the room. ‘ 

“ Here, my boy; I thought I heard your voice. I want 
you to go a message for me. Run down, like a good lad, 
to Ole Thorwald, and tell liim to come up here as soon as 
he conveniently can. There are matters to consult about 
which will not brook delay.” 

“ Ay, ay, sir,” answered Corrie, sailor-fashion, as he 
touched his forelock and bounded from the room. 

“ Olf on pressing business,” cried the sanguine youth, as 
he dashed through the kitchen, frightening Alice, and 
throwing Toozle into convulsions of delight — “ horribly 
important business, that ‘ won’t brook delay;’ but what 
^roo^ means is more than I can guess. ” 

Before the sentence was finished, Corrie was far down 
the hill, leaping over every obstacle like a deer. On pass- 
ing through a small field he observed a native bending 
down, as if picking weeds, with his back toward him. Go- 
ing softly up behind, he hit the semi-naked savage a sound- 
ing slap, and exclaimed, as he passed on, “ Hallo! Jack- 
olu; important business, my boy — ^hurrah!” 

The native to whom this rough salutation was given, was 
a tall, stalwart young fellow, who had for some years been 
one of the best-behaved and most active members of Fred- 
erick Mason’s dark-skinned congregation. He stood erect 
for some time, with a broad grin on his swarthy face and a 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TEADER. 


43 


twinkle in his eye, as he gazed after the young hopeful, 
muttering to himself, “ Ho! yes — bery wicked boy dat, 
bery; but hims capital chap, for all dat/^ 

A few minutes later. Master Corrie burst in upon the 
sturdy middle-aged merchant, named Ole Thorwald, a Nor- 
wegian, who had resided much in England, and spoke the 
English language well, and who prided himself on being 
entitled to claim descent from the old Norwegian sea- 
kings. This man was uncle and protector to Corrie. 

‘^Ho! Uncle Ole; here^^s a business. Sich a to-do — , 
wounds, blood, and murder! or at least an attempt at it; — 
the whole settlement in arms, and the parson sends for you 
to take command!” 

“ What means the boy!” exclaimed Ole Thorwald, who, 
in virtue of his having once been a private in a regiment of 
militia, had been appointed to the chief command of the 
military department of the settlement. This cpnsisted of 
about thirty white men, armed with fourteen fowling-pieces, 
twenty daggers, fifteen swords, and eight cavalry pistols; 
and about two hundred native Christians, who, when the 
assaults of their unconverted brethren were made, armed 
themselves — as they were wont to do in days gone by — with 
formidable clubs, stone hatchets, and spears. “ What 
means the boy!” exclaimed Ole, laying down a book which 
he had been reading, and thrusting his spectacles up on his 
broad bald forehead. 

“ Exactly what the boy sa.ys/^ replied Master Corrie. 

“Then add something more to it, pray.^^ 

Thorwald said this in a mild tone; but he suddenly seized 
the handle of an old pewter mug which the lad knew, from 
experience, would certainly reach his head before he could 
gam the door if he did not behave; so he became polite, 
and condescended to explain his errand more fully. 

“ So, s6,^^ observed the descendant of the sea-kings, as 
he rose and slowly buckled on a huge old cavalry saber; 
“ there is double mischief brewing this time. Well, we 
shall see — we shall see. Go, Corrie, my boy, and rouse up 
Terrence and Hugh, and — ” 

“ The whole army, in short,^^ cried the boy, hastily; 
“ youh’e so awfully slow, uncle, you should have been bom 
in the last century, I think. 

Further remark was cut short by the sudden discharge of 
the pewter mug, which, however, fell harmlessly on the 


44 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADEK. 


panel of the closing door as the impertinent Corrie sped 
forth to call the settlement to arms. 


CHAPTER VL 

SUSPICIONS ALLAYED AND REAWAKENED. 

Gascoyne, followed by his man Jo Bumpus, sped over 
the rugged mountains, and descended the slopes on the op- 
posite side of the island soon after nightfall and long before 
Captain Montague, in his large and well-manned boat, 
could pull half-way round in the direction of the sequest- 
ered bay where the “ Eoam^^ lay quietly at anchor. 

There was not a breath of wind to ruffle the surface of 
the glassy sea, as the captain of the sandal-wood trader 
reached the shore and uttered a low cry like the hoot of 
an owl. The cry was instantly replied to, and in a few 
minutes a boat crept noiselessly toward the shore, seeming, 
in the uncertain light, more like a shadow than a reality. 
It was rowed by a single man. When within a few yards 
of the shore, the oars ceased to move, and the deep still- 
ness of the night was scarcely broken by the low voice of 
surly Dick, demanding, “ Who goes there 

“ All right, pull in,^^ replied Gascoyne, whose deep bass 
voice sounded sepulchral in the almost unearthly stillness. 
It was one of those dark, oppressively quiet nights which 
make one feel a powerful sensation of loneliness, and a pe- 
culiar disinchnation, by word or act, to disturb the prevail- 
ing quiescence of nature — such a night as suggests the idea 
of a coming storm to those who are at sea, or of impending 
evil to those on land. 

‘‘ Is the mate aboard?^^ inquired Gascoyne. 

“ He is, sir.^^ 

“ Are any of the hands on shore 

“ More than half of ^em, sir. ” 

Nothing more was said; and in a few minutes Gascoyne 
was slowly pacing the quarter-deck of his little vessel in 
earnest consultation with his first mate. There seemed 
to be some difference of opinion between the captain and 
his officer; for their words, which at first were low, at 
length became audible. 

'^I tell you, Man ton, it won't do,' ' said Gascoyne, sternly. 

‘‘ I can only suggest what I believe to be for the good of 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADEK. 45 

the ship/ ^ replied the other, coldly. ‘‘ Even if you suc- 
ceed in your attempt, you will be certain to lose some of 
our hands; formal though the best of them are on shore, the 
commander of the ‘ Talisman ^ will think those that re- 
main too numerous for a sandal-wood trader, and you are 
aware that we are sufficiently short-handed in such danger- 
ous seas. ' 

The latter part of this speech was uttered in a slightly 
sarcastic tone. 

“ What would you have me do, then?^’ demanded Gas- 
coyne, whose usual decision of character seemed to have 
deserted him under the influence of conflicting feelings, 
which the first mate could plainly perceive agitated the 
breast of his commander, but which he could by no means 
account for. Certainly he had no sympathy with them, for 
Manton^s was a hard, stern nature— not given to the melt- 
ing mood. 

“ Do?^^ exclaimed the mate, vehemently, would 
mount the red, and get out the sweepk. An hour^s pull 
will place the schooner on the other side of the reef. A 
shot from Long Tom will sink the best boat in the service 
of His Britannic Majesty, and we could be off, and away 
with the land breeze before morning.'’^ 

“ What! sink a man-of-war^s boat!^^ exclaimed Gas- 
coyne; “ why, that would make them set us down as pi- 
rates at once, and we should have to run the gantlet of 
half the British navy before this time next year."’"’ 

Manton received this remark with a loud laugh, which 
harshly disturbed the silence of the night. 

“ That is true,"'’ said he; “ yet I scarcely expected to see 
Captain Gascoyne show the white feather."" 

“ Possibly not/" retorted the other, grimly; “yet me- 
thinks that he who counsels flight shows more of the white 
feather than he who would shove his head into the very 
jaws of the lion. It won"t do, Manton; I have my own 
reasons for remaining here. The white lady must in the 
meantime smile on the British commander. Besides, it 
would be difficult, if not impossible, to do all this and get 
our fellows on board again before morning. The land 
breeze will serve to fill the sails of the ‘ Talisman " just as 
well as those of the ‘ Foam;" and they "re sure to trip their 
anchor to-night; for, you"ll scarcely believe it, this mad lit- 


46 GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADEE. 

tie fellow Montague actually suspects me to be the pirate 
Durward!^^ 

Again the harsh laugh of Manton disturbed the peaceful 
calm, and this time he was joined by Gascoyne, who seemed 
at length to have overcome the objections of his mate; for 
their tones again sunk into inaudible whispers. 

Shortly after this conversation the moon broke out from , 
behind a bank of clouds, and shone brightly down on land* 
and sea, throwing into bold relief the precipices, pinnacles, 
and gorges of the one, and covering the other with rippling 
streaks of silver. About the same time the oars of the 
man-of-war^ s boat were heard,, and in less than half an 
hour Captain Montague ascended the side of the ‘‘ Foam,’^ 
where, to his great surprise, he was politely received by 
Gascoyne. 

“ Captain Gascoyne has reason to be proud of his pedes- 
trian powers," said the young commander; he must have 
had urgent reason for making such good use of his legs 
since we last met. " 

“ To do the honors of his own ship, when he expects a 
visit from a British officer, is surely sufficient reason to in- 
duce a poor skipper to take an extra walk of a hue even- 
ing," replied Gascoyne, blandly. “ Besides, I know that 
men-of-war are apt to take a fancy to the crews of mer- 
chantmen sometimes, and I thought my presence might be 
necessary here to-night." 

“ How?" exclaimed Montague, quickly. “ Do you 
fancy that your single arm, stout though it be, could avail 
to prevent this evil that you dread if I think proper to act 
according to established usage in time of war?" 

‘‘Hay, that were extreme vanity indeed," returned the 
other; but I would fain hope that the explanations which 
I can give of the danger of our peculiar trade, and the ne- 
cessity we have for a strong crew, will induce Captain 
Montague to forego his undoubted privilege and right on 
this occasion. " 

“ Fm not so sure of that," replied Montague; “ it will 
depend much on your explanations being satisfactory. How 
many men have you?" 

“ Twenty- two. " 

“ So many! That is much more than enough to work 
so small a vessel." 


GASCOYKE, THE SAHDAL-WOOD TKADEK. 


47 


But not more than enough to defend my vessel from a 
swarm of bloody savages/^ 

‘‘ Perhaps not/^ returned Montague, on whom the ur- 
banity and candor of the captain of the “ Foam were be- 
ginning to have a softening influence. “ You have no ob- 
jection to let me see your papers, and examine your ship, I 


‘^ISlone in the world,"’^ replied Gascoyne, smiling; “ and 
if I had, it would make little difference, I should imagine, 
to one who is so well able to insist on having his will 
obeyed. (He glanced at the boat full of armed men as he 
spoke.) “ Pray, come below with me. 

In the examination that ensued. Captain Montague was 
exceedingly strict, although the strength of his first sus- 
picions had been somewhat abated by the truthful tone and 
aspect of Gascoyne, and the apparent reasonableness of all 
he said; but he failed to detect anything in the papers, or 
in the general arrangements of the “ Foam, that could 
warrant his treating her otherwise than as an honest trader. 

“ So,” said he, on returning to the deck; “ this is the 
counterpart of the noted pirate, is it? You must pardon 
my having suspected you, sir, of being this same Hurward, 
sailing under false colors. Come, let me see the points of 
difference between you, else if we happen to meet on the 
high seas I may chance to make an unfortunate hole in 
your timbers. ” 

“ The sides of my schooner are altogether black, as you 
see,^-’ returned Gascoyne. “ I have already explained that 
a narrow streak of red distinguishes the pirate; and this 
fair lady^'^ (leading Montague to the bow) “ guides the 
‘ Foam ^ over the waves with smiling countenance, while a 
scarlet griffin is the more appropriate figurehead of Dur- 
ward^s vessel. ” 

As he spoke, the low boom of a far-distant gun was 
heard. Montague started, and glanced inquiringly in the 
face of his companion, whose looks expressed a slight de- 
gree of surprise. 

“ What was that, think you?” said Montague, after a 
momentary pause. 

“ The commander of the ‘ Talisman ought, I think, 
to be the best judge of the sound of his own guns. ” 

“ True,-’ ^ returned the young officer, somewhat discon- 
certed; “ but you forget that I am not familiar with the 


48 


GASCOYKE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TKADEK. 


eruptions of those volcanic mountains of yours; and^ at so 
great a distance from my ship, with such hills of rock and 
lava between us, I may well be excused feeling a little 
doubt as to the bark of my own bull-dogs. But that signal ' 
betokens something unusual. I , must shorten my visit to 
you, I fear.'’^ 

‘ ‘ Pray do not mention it,^ ^ said Gascoyne, with a pecul- 
iar smile; under the circumstances I am bound to excuse 
you. 

“ But,^^ continued Montague, with emphasis, “ I should 
be sorry indeed to part without some memorial of my visit. 
Be so good as to order your men to come aft. 

“By all means, said Gascoyne, giving the requisite 
order promptly; for, having sent all his best men on shore, 
he did not much mind the loss of a few of those remain- 
ing. 

When they were mustered, the British commander in- 
spected them carefully, and then he singled out surly Dick, 
and ordered him into the boat. A slight frown rested for 
a moment on Gascoyne^s countenance, as he observed the 
look of ill-concealed triumph with which the man obeyed 
the order. The expression of surly Dick, however, was 
instantly exchanged for one of dismay as his captain strode 
up to him, and looked in his face for one moment with a 
piercing glance, at the same time thrusting his left hand 
into the breast of his red shirt. 

“ Good-bye,^ he said, suddenly, in a cheerful tone, ex- 
tending his right hand and grasping that of the sailor. 
“ Good-bye, lad; if you serve the king as well as you have 
served me, heTl have reason to be proud of you.^^ 

Gascoyne turned on his heel, and the man slunk into the 
boat with an aspect very unlike that of a bold British sea- 
man. 

“ Here is another man I want,^^ said Montague, laying 
his hand on the shoulder of Johii Bumpus. - 

“ I trust, sir, that you will not take that man,^^ said 
Gascoyne, earnestly. “I can not afford to lose him; I 
would rather you should take any three of the others. 

“ Your liberality leads me to think that you could with- 
out much difficulty supply the place of the men I take : 

X ^ . X 1^^ satisfied with this one. 



Poor John Bumpus, whose heart had been captivated by 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADER. 49 

the beauties of the island, obeyed the order with a rueful 
countenance; and Gascoyne bit his lip and turned aside 
to conceal his anger. In two minutes more the boat was 
rowed away from the schooner's side. 

Not a word was spoken by any one in the boat until a 
mile had separated it from the schooner. They had just 
turned a point which shut the vesssel out of view, when 
surly Dick suddenly recovered his self-possession and his 
tongue, and, starting up in an excited manner, exclaimed 
to Montague: “ The schooner you have just left, sir, is a 
pirate. I tell the truth, though I should swing for it." 

The crew of the boat ceased rowing, and glanced at each 
other in surprise on hearing this. 

“ Ha! say you so?" exclaimed Montague, quickly. 

“ It's a fact, sir. Ask my comrade there, and he'll tell 
you the same thing."* 

“ He'll do nothin' o' the sort," sharply returned honest 
Bump us, who, having been only a short time previously 
engaged by Gascoyne, could perceive neither pleasure nor 
justice in the idea of being hanged for a pirate, and who 
attributed Dick's speech to an ill-natured desire to get his 
late commander into trouble. 

“ Which of you am I to believe?" said Montague, 
hastily. 

“ W'ichever you please," observed Bumpus, with an air 
of indifference. 

“ It's no business o' mine," said Dick, sulkily; ‘‘ if you 
choose to let the blackguard escape, that's your own look- 
out. " 

‘‘ Silence, you scoundrel!" cried Montague, who was as 
much nettled by a feeling of uncertainty how to act as by 
the impertinence of the man. 

Before he could decide as to the course he ought to pur- 
sue, the report of one of the guns of his own vessel boomed 
loud and distinct in the distance. It was almost immedi- 
ately followed by another. 

‘‘Ha! that settles the question; give way, my lads, give 
way. " 

In another moment the boat was cleaving her way swiftly 
through the dark water in the direction of the “ Talis- 
man." 


oO 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TKADER. 


CHAPTEE YIL 

MASTER CORRIE CAUGHT NAPPING. — SNAKES IN THE 
GRASS. 

The Sabbath morning which succeeded the events we 
have just narrated dawned on the settlement of Sandy Cove 
in unclouded splendor, and the deep repose of nature was 
still unbroken by the angry passions and the violent strife 
of man; although from the active preparations of the 
previous night it might have been expected that those who 
dwelt on the island would not have an opportunity of en- 
joying the rest of that day. 

Everything in and about the settlement was eminently 
suggestive of peace. The cattle lay sleepily in the shade of 
the trees; the sea was still calm like glass. Men had 
ceased from their daily toil; and the only sounds that broke 
the quiet of the morning were the chattering of. the par- 
rots and other birds in the cocoa-nut groves, and the cries 
of sea-fowl, as they circled in the air, or dropped on the 
surface of the sea in quest of fish. 

The British frigate lay at anchor in the same place which 
she had. hitherto occupied, and the “ Foam still floated 
in the sequestered bay on the other side of the island. In 
neither vessel was there the slightest symptom of prepara- 
tion; and to one who knew not the true state of matters, 
the idea of war being about to break forth was the last that 
would have occurred. 

But this deceitful quiet was only the calm that precedes 
the storm. On every hand men were busily engaged in 
making preparations to break that Sabbath-day in the most 
frightful manner, or were calmly, but resolutely, awaiting 
attack. On board the ship of war, indeed, there was little 
doing; for, her business being to fight, she was always in a 
state of readiness for action. Her signal guns, fired the 
previous night, had recalled Montague to tell him of the 
threatened attack by the savages. A few brief orders were 
given, and they were prepared for whatever might occur. 
In the village, too, the arrangements to repel attack having- 
been made, white men and native converts alike rested with 
their arms placed in convenient proximity to their hands. 

In a wild and densely wooded part of the island, far re- 


GASCOYKE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADEE. 51 

moved from those portions which we have yet had occasion 
to describe, a band of fiendish-looking men were making 
arrangements for one of those unprovoked assaults which 
savages are so prone to make on those who settle near 
them. 

They were all of them in a state of almost complete 
nudity; but the complicated tattooing on their dark skins 
gave them the appearance of being more clothed than they 
really were. Their arms consisted chiefly of enormous 
clubs of hard wood, spears, and bows; and, in order to 
facilitate their escape should they chance to be grasped in 
a hand-to-hand conflict, they had covered their bodies with 
oil, which glistened in the sunshine as they moved about 
their village. 

Conspicuous among these truly savage warriors was the 
form of Keona, with his right arm bound up in a sort of 
sling. Pain and disappointed revenge had rendered this 
man^s face more than usually diabolical as he went about 
among his fellows, inciting them to revenge the insult and 
injury done to them through his person by the whites. 
There was some reluctance, however, on the part of a few 
of the chiefs to renew a war that had been terminated, or 
rather been slumbering, only for a few months. 

Keona’ s influence, too, was not great among his kindred, 
and had it not been that one or two influential chiefs sided 
with him, his own efforts to relight the still smoking torch 
of war would have been unavailing. 

As it was, the natives soon worked themselves up into a 
sufficiently excited state to engage in any desperate expe- 
dition. It was while all this was doing in the native camp, 
that Keona, having gone to the nearest mountain-top to 
observe what was going on in the settlement, had fallen in 
with and been chased by some of those men belonging to 
the Foam,^"’ who had been sent on shore to escape being 
pressed into the service of the King of England. 

The solitary exception to this general state of preparation 
for war was the household of Frederick Mason. Having 
taken such precautionary steps the night before as he 
deemed expedient, and having consulted with Old Tlior- 
wald, the general commanding, who had posted scouts in 
all the mountaiurpasses, and had. seen the war-canoes drawn 
up in a row on me strand, the pastor retired to his study, 
and spent the greater part of the night in preparing to 


52 GASCOYKE, THE SAHDAL-WOOD TRADEK. 

preach the gospel of peace on the morrow, and in commit- 
ting the care of his flock and his household to Him who is 
the “ God of battles as well as the “ Prince of peace/' 

It is not to be supposed that Mr. Mason contemplated the 
probable renewal of hostilities without great anxiety. For 
himself, we need scarcely say, he had no fears; but his 
heart sunk when he thought of his gentle Alice falling into 
the hands of savages. As the night passed away without 
any alarms, his anxiety began to subside, and when Sun- 
day morning dawned, he lay down on a couch to snatch a 
few hours' repose before the labors of the day. 

The first object that greeted the pastor's eyes on awak- 
ing in the morning was a black visage, and a pair of glitter- 
ing eyes gazing at him through the half-open door with an 
expression of the utmost astonishment. 

He leaped up with hghtning speed and darted toward 
the intruder, but checked himself suddenly, and smiled, as 
poor Poopy uttered a scream, and, falling on her knees, 
implored for mercy. 

My poor girl, 1 fear I have frightened you by my vio- 
lence," said he, sitting down oh his couch and yawning 
sleepily; ‘‘ but I was dreaming, Poopy; and when I saw 
your black face peeping at me, I took you at first for one 
of the wild fellows on the other side of the mountains. 
You have come to sweep and arrange my study, I sup- 
pose. " 

“ Why, mass'r, you mo hab go to bed yet," said Poopy, 
still feeling and expressing surprise at her master's un- 
wonted irregularity. “ Is you ill?" 

“ Not at all, my good girl; only a little tired. It is not 
a time for me to take much rest when the savages are said 
to be about to attack us. " 

“ When is they coming?" inquired the girl, meekly. 

The pastor smiled as he replied, “ That is best known to 
themselves, Poopy. Do you think it likely that murderers 
or thieves would send to let us know when they were com- 
ing. " 

“ Hee! hee!" laughed Poopy, with an immense display 
of teeth and gums. 

“ Is Alice awake?" inquired Mr. Mason. 

“ No; her be sound 'sleep wid her two eye shut tight up, 
dis fasliion, and her mout' wide open — so." 

The representation of Alice's condition, as given by her 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TEADEK. 53 

maid, although hideously unlike the beautiful object they 
were meant to call up to her father^s mind, were sufficient- 
ly expressive and comprehensible. 

“ Go wake her, my girl, and let us have breakfast as 
soon as you can. Has Will Corrie been here this morn- 
ing 

‘‘ Hims bin here all night, replied the girl, with a 
broad grin (and the breadth of Poopy's hroad grin was 
almost appalhng). 

“ What mean you — has he slept in this house all night?’-’ 
“ Yes — eh! no,” saidPoopy. 

“Yes, no!” exclaimed Mr. Mason. “Come, Poopy, 
don’t be stupid, explain yourself.” 

“ Hee! hee! hee! yes, ho! ho! ho!” laughed Poopy, as if 
the idea of explaining herself was about the richest joke 
she had listened to since she was born. “Heel hee! me 
no can ’xplain; but you com here an’ see.” 

So saying, she conducted her wondering master to the 
front door of the cottage, where, across the threshold, 
directly under the porch, lay the form of the redoubted 
Corrie, fast asleep, and armed to the teeth! 

In order to explain the cause of this remarkable appari- 
tion, we think it justifiable to state to the reader, in confi- 
dence, that young Master Corrie was deeply in love with 
the fair Alice. With all his reckless drollery of disposition, 
the boy was intensely romantic and enthusiastic; and, 
feeling that the unsettled condition of the times endangered 
the welfare of his lady-love, he resolved, like a true knight, 
to arm himself and guard the threshold of her door with 
his own body. 

In the deep silence of the night he buckled on a saber, 
the blade of which, by reason of its having been broken, 
was barely eight inches long, and the hilt whereof was bat- 
tered and rusty. He also stuck a huge brass-mounted 
cavalry pistol in his belt, in the virtue of which he had 
great faith, having only two days before shot with it a 
green-headed parrot at a distance of two yards. The dis- 
tance was not great, to be sure, but it was enough for his 
purpose — intending, as he did, to meet his foe, when the 
moment of action should come, in close conflict, and thrust 
the muzzle of his weapon down the said foe’s throat before 
condescending to draw the trigger. 

Thus prepared for the worst, he sallied out on tiptoe, in- 


54 GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TEADEE. 

tending to mount guard at the missionary’s door, and re- 
turn to his own proper couch before the break of day. 

But alas for poor Corrie’s powers of endurance! l^o 
sooner had he extended his chubby form on the door-mat, 
earnestly wishing, but not expecting, that Alice would 
come out and find him there, than he fell fast asleep, 
while engaged in the hopeless task of counting the starry 
host — a duty which he had imposed on himself in the hope 
that he might thereby be kept awake. Once asleep he slept 
on, as a matter of course, with his broad little chest heav- 
ing gently; his round little visage beaming upward like a 
terrestrial moon; his left arm under his head in heu of a 
pillow (by consequence of which it was fast asleep also), 
and his right hand grasping the hilt of the broken saber. 

As for Corrie’s prostrate body affording protection to 
Alice, the entire savage population might have stepped 
across it, one by one, and might have stepped back again, 
bearing away into slavery the fair maiden, with her father 
and all the household furniture to boot, without in the least 
disturbing the deep slumbers of the youthful knight. At 
least we may safely come to this conclusion from the fact 
that Mr. Mason shook him, first gently and then violently, 
for full five minutes, before he could get him to speak; 
and even then he only gave utterance, in very sleepy tones, 
and half -formed words, to the remark — 

“ Oh! don’ borer me. Itaint b’kfust-t’m’ yet?” 

“ Ho! Corrie, Corrie,” shouted Mr. Mason, giving the 
victim a shake that threatened to dislocate his neck, “ get 
up, my boy — rouse up!” 

“ Hallo! hy! murder! Come on you vill — eh! Mr. 
Mason — I beg pardon, sir,” stammered Corrie, as he at 
length became aware of his condition, and blushed deeply; 

I — I — really, Mr. Mason, I merely came to watch while 
you were all asleep, as there are savages about, you know 
and — ha! ha! ha! — oh! dear me!” (Corrie exploded at 
this point, unable to contain himself at the sight of the 
missionary’s ‘gaze of astonishment.) ‘‘ Wot a sight, for a 
Sunday mornin’ too!” 

The hilarity of the boy was catching; for at this point a 
vociferous “ hee! hee!” burst from the sable Poopy; the 
clear laugh of Ahce, too, came ringing through the pas- 
sage, and Mr. Mason himself finally joined in the chorus. 

‘ Come, Sir Knight,” exclaimed the latter, on recovering 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TEADER. 55 

liis gravity, “ this is no guise for a respectable man to be 
seen in on Sunday morning; come in and lay down your 
arms. You have done' very well as a soldier for this occa- 
sion; let us see if you can do your duty equally well as a 
church-officer. Have you the keys?^^ 

“ JSTo; they are at home. ” 

“ Then run and get them, my boy, and leave your pistol 
behind you. I dare say the savages wonT attack during 
the day-time. 

Corrie did as he was desired, and the pastor went, after 
breakfast, to spend a short time with Alice on a neighbor- 
ing eminence, from which could be obtained a fine view of 
the settlement with its little church, and the calm bay, on 
which fioated the frigate, sheltered by the encircling coral 
reef from the swell of the ocean. 

Here it was Mr. Mason ^s wont to saunter with Alice every 
Sunday morning, to read a chapter of the Bible to her, and 
converse about that happy land where one so dear to both 
of them now dwelt with their Saviour. Here, also, the 
child ^s maid was sometimes privileged to join them. On 
this particular morning, however, they were not the only 
spectators of the beautiful view from that hill; for, closely 
liidden in the bushes — not fifty yards from the spot where 
they sat — lay a band of armed savages who had escaped 
the vigilance of the scouts, and had come by an unguarded 
pass to the settlement. 

They might easily have slain or secured the missionary 
and his household without alarming the people in the vil- 
lage, but their plan of attack forbade such a premature 
proceeding. The trio therefore finished their chapter and 
their morning prayer undisturbed, little dreaming of the 
number of glittering eyes that watched their proceedings. 


i CHAPTEK VHI. 

A SURPRISE. — A BATTLE AND A FIRE. 

The sound of the Sabbath bell fell sweetly on the pastor^s 
ear as he descended to his dwelling to make a few final 
preparations for the duties of the day; and from every hut 
in Sandy Cove trooped forth the native Christians, young 
and old, to assemble in the house of God. 

With great labor and much pains had this church been 


56 GASCOYKE, THE SAKDAL-WOOD TRADEE. 

built, and pastor and people alike were not a little proud of 
their handiwork. The former had drawn the plans and 
given the measurements, leaving it to Henry Stuart to see 
them properly carried out in detail, while the latter did the 
work. They cut and squared the timbers, gathered the 
coral, burned it for lime, arid plastered the building. The 
women and children carried the lime from the beach in 
baskets, and the men dragged the heavy logs from the 
mountains — in some cases for several miles — the timber in 
the immediate neighborhood not being sufficiently large for 
their purpose. 

The poor natives worked with heart and soul; for love, 
and the desire to please . and to be pleased, had been 
awakened within them. Besides this, the work had for 
them all the zest of novelty. They wrought at it with 
somewhat of the feelings of children at play — pausing 
frequently in the midst of their toil to gaze in wonder and 
admiration at the growing edifice, which would have done 
no little credit to a professional architect and to more 
skilled workmen. 

The white men of the place also lent a willing hand; for 
although some of them were bad men, yet they were con- 
strained to respect the consistent character and blameless 
life of the missionary, who not unfrequently experienced 
the fulfillment of that word: “ When a man^s ways please 
the Lord, he maketh even his enemies to be at peace with 
him. Besides this, all of them, however unwilling they 
might be to accept Christianity for themselves, were fully 
alive to the advantages they derived from its introduction 
among the natives. 

With so many willing hands at work, the little church 
was soon finished; and, at the time when the events we are; 
describing occurred, there was nothing to be done to it' 
except some trifling arrangements connected with the 
steeple, and the glazing of the windows. This latter piece 
of work was, in such a climate, of little importance. 

Long before the bell had ceased to toll, the church was 
full of natives, whose dark, eager faces were turned toward 
the door, in expectation of the appearance of their pastor. 
The building was so full that many of the people were 
content- to cluster round the door, or the outside of the 
unglazed windows. On this particular Sunday there were 
strangers there, who roused the curiosity and attracted the 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADER. 57 

attention of the congregation. Before Mr. Mason arrived, 
there was a slight bustle at the door as Captain Montague, 
with several of his officers and men, entered, and were 
shown to the missionary's seat by Master Corrie, who, with 
his round visage elongated as much as possible, and his 
round eyes* expressing a look of inhuman solemnity, in 
consequence of his attempt to affect a virtue which he did 
not possess, performed the duties of door-keeper. Mon- 
tague had come on shore to ascertain from Mr. Mason 
what likelihood there was of an early attack by the natives. 

Where's Alice?" whispered the boy to Poopy, as the 
girl entered the church, and seated herself beside a little 
midshipman who looked at her with a mingled expression 
of disgust and contempt, and edged away. 

Got a little headache — hee! hee!" 

Don't laugh in church, you monster," said Corrie, 
with a frown. 

“ I'se not larfin',"Tetorted Poopy, with an injured look. 

Just then the boy caught sight of a gigantic figure enter- 
ing the church, and darted away to usher the stranger into 
the pastor's seat; but Gascoyne (for it was he) took no 
notice of him. He passed steadily up the center of the 
church, and sat down beside the Widow Stuart, whose face 
expressed anxiety and surprise the moment she observed 
who was seated there. The countenance of Henry, who 
sat on the other side of his mother, flushed, and he turned 
with an angry glance toward the captain of the “ Foam." 
But the look was thrown away; for Gascoyne had placed 
his arms on the back of the seat in front of him, and rested 
his head on them; in which position he continued to re- 
main without motion while the service was going on. 

Mr. Mason began with a short, earnest prayer in English; 
then he read out a hymn in the native tongue, which was 
sung in good tune, and with great energy to the whole con- 
gregation. This was followed by a chapter in the 'New Tes- 
tament, and another prayer; but all the service, with the 
exception of the first prayer, was conducted in the native 
language. The text was then read out: ‘‘ Though thy sins 
be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow; though they be 
red like crimson, they shall be white as wool." 

Frederick Mason possessed the power of chaining the 
attention of an audience; and a deep breathless silence 
prevailed, as he labored, with intense fervor, to convince 


58 GASCOYNE^ THE SAHDAL-WOOD TRADEB. 

his hearers of the love of God, and the willingness and 
ability of Jesus Christ to save even the chief of sinners. 
During one part of the service, a deep, low groan startled 
the congregation; but no one could tell who had uttered it. 
As it was not repeated, it was soon forgotten by most of 
the people. 

While the pastor was thus engaged, a pistol-shot was 
heard, and immediately after, a loud, fierce yell burst from 
the forest, causing the ears of those who heard it to tingle, 
and their hearts for a moment to quail. In less than ten 
minutes, the church was empty, and the males of the con- 
gregation were engaged in a desperate hand-to-hand con- 
flict with the savages; who, having availed themselves of 
the one unguarded pass, had quietly eluded the vigilance 
of the scouts, and assembled in force on the outskirts of 
the settlement. 

Fortunately for the worshipers that morning, the anxiety 
of Master Corrie for the welfare of his fair Alice induced 
him to slip out of the church just after the sermon began. 
Hastening to the pastor’s house, he found the child sound 
asleep on a- sofa, and a savage standing over her with a 
spear in his hand. The boy had approached so stealthily 
that the savage did not hear him. Remembering that he 
had left his pistol on the kitchen-table, he darted round to 
the back door of the house, and secured it just as Alice 
awoke with a scream of surprise and terror, on beholding 
who was near her. 

Next moment Corrie was at her side, and before the 
savage could seize the child, he leveled the pistol at his 
head and fired. The aim was sufficiently true to cause the 
ball to graze the man’s forehead, while the smoke and fire 
partially blinded him. 

It was this shot that first alarmed the natives in church, 
and it was the yell uttered by the wounded man, as he fell 
stunned on the floor, that called forth the answering yell 
from the savage host, and precipitated the attack. 

It was sufficiently premature to give the people of the 
settlement time to seize their arms; which, as has been said, 
they had placed so as to be available at a moment’s notice. 

The fight that ensued was a desperate, and almost in- 
discriminate melee. The attacking party had been so sure 
of taking the people by surprise that they formed no 
plan of attack; but simply arranged that, at a given signal 


GASCOYNE^ THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADER. 59 

from their chief, a united rush should be made upon the 
church, and a general massacre ensue. As we have seen, 
Corrie's pistol drew forth the signal sooner than had been 
intended. In the rush that immediately ensued, a party 
dashed through the house, the boy was overturned, and a 
savage gave him a passing blow with a club that would have 
scatter^ his brains on the floor had it taken full effect; 
but it was hastily delivered; it glanced off his head, and 
spent its force on the shoulder of the chief, who was thus 
unfortunate enough to be wounded by friends as well as 
foes. 

On the first alarm, Gascoyne sprung up, and darted 
through the door. He was closely followed by Henry 
Stuart, and the captain of the Talisman, with his hand- 
ful of ofiS.cers and men, who were all armed, as a matter 
of course. 

‘‘Sit where you are,^^ cried Henry to his trembling 
mother, as he sprung after Gascoyne; “ the church is the 
safest place you^’U find.^^ 

The widow fell on her knees, and prayed to God while 
the fight raged without. 

Among the first to leave the church was the pastor. 
The thought of his child having been left in the house un- 
protected filled him with an agony of fear. He sought no 
weapon of war, but darted unarmed straight into the midst 
of the savage host that stood between him and the object 
of his affection. His rush was so impetuous, that he 
fairly overturned several of his opponents by dashing 
against them. The numbers that surrounded him, how- 
ever, soon arrested his progress; but he had pressed so close 
in amongst them, that they were actually too closely packed, 
for a few seconds, to be able to use their heavy clubs and 
long spears with effect. 

It was well for the poor missionary, at that moment, 
that he had learned the art of boxing when a boy! The 
knowledge so acquired had never induced him to engage in 
dishonorable and vulgar strife; but it had taught him how 
and where to deliver a straightforward blow with effect; 
and he now struck out with tremendous energy, knocking 
down an adversary at every blow; for the thought of Alice 
lent additional strength to his powerful arm. Success in 
such warfare, however, was not to be expected. Still, Mr. 
Mason^s activity and vigor averted fiiis own destiuiction for 


no GASCOYKE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TKADER. 

a few minutes; and these minutes were precious, for they 
afforded time for Captain Montague and his officers to cut 
their way to the spot where he fought, just as a murderous 
club was about to descend on his head from behind. 
Montague’s sword unstrung the arm that upheld it, and 
the next instant the pastor was surrounded by friends. 

Among their number was John Bumpus, who was one of 
the crew of Montague’s boat, and who now rushed upon 
the savages with a howl peculiarly his own, felling one with 
a blow of his fist, and another with a slash of his cutlass. 

‘‘ You must retire,” said Montague, hastily, to Frederick 
Mason, who stood panting and inactive for a few moments 
]n order to recover breath. ‘‘You are unarmed, sir; 
besides, your profession forbids you taking part in such 
work as this. There are men of war enough here to keep 
these fellows in play.” 

Montague spoke somewhat sharply; for he erroneously 
fancied that the missionary’s love of fighting had led him 
; into the fray. 

“ My profession does not forbid me to save my child,*’ 
exclaimed the pastor, wildly. 

He turned in the direction Of his cottage, which was full 
in view; and at that moment smoke burst from the roof 
' and windows. AVith a cry of despair, Mr. Mason once 
more launched himself on the host of savages; but these 
were now so numerous that, instead of making head against 
them, the little knot of sailors who opposed them at that 
particular place found it was as much as they could do to 
keep them at bay. 

The issue of the conflict was still doubtful, when a large 
accession to their numbers gave the savages additional 
power and courage. They made a sudden onset, and bore 
back the small band of white men. In the rush the pastor 
was overthrown, and rendered for a time insensible. 

While this was going on in one part of the field, in 
another, stout Ole Thorwald, with several of the white 
settlers and the greater part of the native f orce, was guard- 
ing the principal approach to the church against immensely 
superior numbers. And nobly did the descendant of the 
Norse sea-kings maintain the credit of his warlike ances- 
tors that day. With a sword that might have matched 
that of Goliath of G^th, he swept the way before him 
wherever he went, and more than once by a furious onset 


GASCOYKE, THE SAKDAL-WOOD TRADER. 61 

turned the tide of war in favor of his party when it seemed 
about to overwhelm them. 

In a more distant part of the field, on the banks of a 
small stream, which was spanned by a bridge about fifty 
paces further down, Gascoyne and Henry Stuart contended, 
almost alone, with about thirty savages. These two had 
rushed forward with such impetuosity at the first onset as 
to have been separated from their friends, and, with four 
Christian natives, had been surrounded. Henry was armed 
with a heavy claymore, the edge of which betokened that 
it had once seen much service in the wars of the youth^s 
Scottish ancestors. Gascoyne, not anticipating thisa,ttack, 
had returned to the settlement armed only with his knife. 
He had seized the first weapon that came to hand, which 
chanced to be an enormous iron shovel, and with this 
terrific implement the giant carried all before him. 

It was quite unintentionally that he and Henry had 
corrle together. But the nature and power of the two men 
being somewhat similar, they had singled out the same 
point of danger, and had made their attack with the same 
overwhelming vehemence. The muscles of both seemed to 
be made of iron; for, as increasing numbers pressed upon 
them, they appeared to deliver their terrible blows with in- 
creasing rapidity and vigor, and the savages, despite their 
numbers, began to quail before them. 

Just then Keona — who, although wounded, hovered 
about doing as much mischief as he could with his left 
hand (which, by the way, seemed to be almost as efficient 
as his right) — caught sight of this group of combatants on 
the banks of the stream. He, with a party, had succeeded 
in forcing the bridge, and now, uttering a shout of wild 
delight at the sight of his two greatest enemies within his 
power, as he thought, he rushed toward them, and darted 
his spear with unerring aim and terrible violence. The 
man-’s anger defeated his purpose; for the shout attracted 
the attention of Gascoyne, who saw the spear coming 
straight toward Henryks breast. He interposed the shovel 
instantly, and the spear fell harmless to the ground. At 
the same time, with a black-handed sweep he brained a 
gigantic savage who at the moment was engaging Henryks 
undivided attention. Bounding forward with a burst of 
anger, Gascoyne sought to close with Keona. He suc- 
ceeded but too well, however; for he could not check him- 


62 


GASCOYNE^ THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADES. 

self sufficiently to deliver an effective blow, but went crash- 
ing against his enemy, and the two fell to the ground. 

In an instant a rush was made on the fallen man; but 
Henry leaped forward, and sweeping down two opponents 
with one cut of his claymore, afforded his companion time 
to leap up. 

Come, we are quits, said Henry, with a grim smile, 
as the two darted again on the foe. 

At that moment Ole Thorwald, having scattered the 
party he Ai’st engaged, came tearing down toward the 
bridge, whirling the great sword round his head, and shout- 
ing “ victory in the voice of a Stentor. 

Ha! here is more work,^^ he cried, as his eye fell on 
Gascoyne ^s figure. Thorwald to the rescue — ^liurrah!^^ 

In another moment the savages were flying pell-mell 
across the bridge with Gascoyne and Henry close on their 
heels, and the stout merchant panting after them, with his 
victorious band, as fast as his less agile limbs could carry 
him. 

It was at this moment that Gascoyne and Henry noticed 
the attack made on the small party of sailors, and observed 
the fall of Mr. Mason. 

“ Thorwald to the rescue shouted Gascoyne, in a voice 
that rolled deep and loud over the whole field like the roar 
of a lion. 

‘‘Ay, ay, my noisy stranger; it^s easy for your tough 
limbs to carry you up the liill,'’^ gasped Ole; “ but tlie 
weight of ten or fifteen years will change your step. 
Hurrah 

The cry of the bold Norseman, coupled with that of 
Gascoyne, had the double effect of checking the onset of 
the enemy, and of collecting their own scattered forces 
around them. The battle was now drawing to a point. 
Men who were skirmishing in various places left off and 
hastened to the spot on which the closing scene was now 
evidently to be enacted; and for a few minutes the con- 
tending parties paused, as if by mutual consent, to breathe 
and scan each other before making the final attack. 

It must not be supposed that, during the fight which we 
have described, the crew of the ‘ ‘ Talisman ^ ^ were idle. At 
the first sign of disturbance on shore, the boats were 
lowered, and a well-armed force rowed for the landing- 
place as swiftly as the strong and wilhng arms of the men 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WO(p TRADER. 63 

could pull. But the distance between the vessel and the 
shore was considerable, and the events we have recounted 
were quickly enacted; so that before the boats had pro- 
ceeded half the distance the fight was nearly over, and the 
settlement seemed about to be overwhelmed. 

These facts were not lost upon the first lieutenant of the 
“Talisman,"’^ Mr. Mulroy, who, with telescope in hand, 
watched the progress of the fight with great anxiety. He' 
saw that it was impossible for the boats to reach the shore 
in time to render efficient aid. He also observed that a 
fresh band of savages were hastening to re-enforce their 
comrades, and that the united band would be so over- 
poweringly strong as to render the chance of a successful 
resistance on the part of the settlers very doubtful indeed 
— almost hopeless. 

In these circumstances he adopted a course which was as 
bold as it was dangerous. Observing that the savages 
mustered for the final onset in a dense mass on an eminence 
which just raised their heads a little above those of the 
party they were about to attack, he at once loaded three of 
the largest guns with round shot and pointed them at the 
mass of human beings with the utmost possible care. 
There was the greatest danger of hitting friends instead of 
foes; but Mr. Mulroy thought it his duty to incur the 
responsibility of running the risk. 

Montague, to whom the command of the band of united 
settlers had been given by general consent, had thrown 
them rapidly into some sort of order, and was about to give 
the word to charge, when the savage host suddenly began 
to pour down the hill with frantic yells. 

Mulroy did not hear the shouts, but he perceived the 
movement. Suddenly, as if a thunder-storm had burst 
over the island, the echoes of the hills were startled by the 
roar of heavy artillery, and, one after another, the three 
guns hurled their deadly contents into the center of the 
rushing mass, through which three broad lanes were cut in 
quick succession. 

The horrible noise and the dreadful slaughter in their 
ranks seemed to render the affirighted creatures incapable 
of action, for they came to a dead halt. 

“Well done, Mulroy shouted Montague; “forward, 
boys — charge!^^ 

A true British cheer burst from the tars and white set- 


64 GASCOYJSii;, THE SAHDAL-WOOD TRADER. 

tiers, which served further to strike terror into the hearts 
of the enemy. In another moment they rushed up the hill, 
led on by Montague, Gascoyne, Henry, and Thorwald. 
But the savages did not await the shock. Seized with a 
complete panic, they turned and tied in utter confusion. 

Just as this occurred, Mr. Mason began to recover con- 
sciousness. Recollecting suddenly what had occurred, he 
started up and followed his friends, who were now in hot 
pursuit of the foe in the direction of his own cottage. 
Quickly though they ran, the anxious father overtook and 
passed them; but he soon perceived that his dwelling was 
wrapped in flames from end to end. 

Darting through the smoke and fire to his daughter's 
room, he shouted her name; but no voice replied. He 
sprung to the bed — it was empty. With a cry of despair, 
and blinded by smoke, he dashed about the room, grasping 
wildly at objects in the hope that he might find his child. 
As he did so he stumbled over a prostrate form, which he 
instantly seized, raised in his arms, and bore out of the 
blazing house, round which a number of the people were 
now assembled. 

The form he had thus plucked from destruction was that 
of the poor boy, who would wilhngly have given his life to 
rescue Alice, and who still lay in the state of insensibility 
into which he had been thrown by the blow from the sav- 
age^s heavy club. 

The missionary dropped his burden, turned wildly round, 
and was about to plunge once again into the heart of the 
blazing ruin, when he was seized in the strong arms of 
Henry Stuart, who, with the assistance of Ole Thorwald, 
forcibly prevented him from doing that which would have 
resulted in almost certain death. 

The pastor ^s head sunk on his breast. The excitement 
of action and hope no longer sustained him. With a deep 
groan, he fell to the earth insensible. 


CHAPTER IX. 

BAFFLED AND PERPLEXED. —PLANS FOR A RESCUE. 
While the men assembled round the prostrate form of 
Mr. Mason were attempting to rescue him from his state 
of stupor, poor Corrie began to show symptoms of return- 
ing vitality. A can of water, poured over him by Henry, 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. G5 

did much to restore him. But no sooner was' he enabled 
to understand what w^as going on, and to recall what had 
happened, than he sprung up with a wild cry of despair, 
and rushed toward the blazing house. Again Henryks 
quick arm arrested a friend in his mad career. 

“Oh! she^s there! Alice is there!” shrieked the boy, 
as he struggled passionately to free himself. 

“ You can do nothing, Corrie,^^ said Henry, trying to 
soothe him. 

“ Coward!^'’ gasped the boy, in a paroxysm of rage, as 
he clinched his fist and struck his. captor on the chest with 
all his force. 

“ Hold him,^^ said Henry, turning to John Bumpus, 
who at that moment came up. 

Bumpus nodded intelligently, and seized the boy, who 
uttered a groan of anguish as he ceased a struggle which he 
felt was hopeless in such an iron grip. 

“ Hovr, friends — all of you,/^ shouted Henry, the mo- 
ment he was relieved of his charge: “ little Alice is in that 
house. We must pull it down. A"^ho will lend a hand?^^ 

He did not pause for an answer, but, seizing an ax, 
rushed through the smoke and began to cut down the door- 
Dosts. The whole party there assembled, numbering about 
fifty, rushed forward, as one man, to aid in the effort. The 
attempt was a wild one. Had Henry considered for a mo- 
ment, he would have seen that, in the event of their suc- 
ceeding in pulling down the blazing pile, they would in all 
probability smother the child in the ruins. 

“ The shell is in the outhouse,^ ^ said Corrie, eagerly, to 
the giant who held him. 

“ Wot shell inquired Bumpus. 

“ The shell that they blow like a horn to call the people 
to work with.'’^ 

“ Ah! youTe sane again, said the sailor, releasing him; 
“ go, find it, lad, and blow till yer cheeks crack. 

Corrie was gone long before Jo had concluded even that 
short remark. In another second the harsh but loud sound 
of the shell rang over the hill-side. The settlers, black 
and white, immediately ceased their pursuit of the savages, , 
-and from every side th6y came trooping in by dozens. 
Without waiting to inquire the cause of wdiat was being 
done, each man, as he arrived, fell to work on the blazing 
edifice, and, urged on by Henry’s voice and example, toiled 


66 GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-w'oOD TRADER. 

and moiled in the midst of fire and smoke until the pas- 
tor’s house was literally pulled to pieces. 

Fortunately for little Alice, she had been carried out of 
the house long before by Keona, who, being subtle as well 
as revengeful, knew well how to strike at the tenderest part 
of the white man’s heart. 

While her friends were thus frantically endeavoring to 
deliver her from the burning house in which they supposed 
her to be, Alice was being hurried through the woods by a 
steep mountain path in the direction of the native village. 
Happily lor the feelings of her father, the fact was made 
known, soon after the house had been pulled down, by the 
arrival of a small party of native settlers bearing one of the 
child’s shoes. They had found it, they said, sticking in 
the mud, about a mile off, and had tracked the little foot- 
steps a long way into the mountains by the side of the 
prints made by the naked feet of a savage. At length they 
had lost the tracks amid the hard lava rocks, and had given 
up the chase. 

“ We must follow them instantly,” said Mr. Mason, who 
had by this time recovered; “ no time is to be lost. ” 

“ Ay, time is precious; who will go?” cried Henry, who, 
begrimed with fire and smoke, and panting vehemently 
from recent exertion, had justatthat moment come toward 
the group. 

“ Take me! oh, take me, Henry!” cried Corrie, in a be- 
seeching tone, as he sprung promptly to his friend’s side. 

At any other time, Henry would have smiled at the en- 
thusiastic offer of such a small arm to tight the savages; 
but fierce anger was in his breast at that moment. He 
turned from the poor boy and looked round with a frown, 
as he observed that, although the natives crowded round 
him at once, neither Gascoyne, nor Thorwald, nor Captain 
Montague showed any symptoms of an intention to accom- 
pany him. 

“ Hay, be not angry, lad,” said Gascoyne, observing the 
frown; “ your blood is young and hot, as it should be; but 
it behooves us to have a council of war before we set out 
on this expedition, whioh, believe me, will be no trifling 
one, if I know anything of savage ways and doings.” 

“ Mr. Gascoyne is right,” said Montague, turning to the 
missionary, who stood regarding the party with anxious 
looks, quite unable to offer advice on such an occasion, aiid 


GASCOYiq"E, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADEK. G7 

clasping tlie little shoe firmly,, in both hands; it seems to 
me that those who know the customs of savage warfare 
should give then' advice first. Y ou may depend on all the 
aid that it is in my power to give. 

Ole Thorwald is our leader when we are compelled to 
fight in self-defense,^^ said Mr. Mason;. “ would God that 
it were less frequently we were obliged to demand his serv- 
ices. He knows what is best to be done. 

“ I know what is best to do,^'’ said Thorwald, “ when I 
have to lead men into action, or to show them how to fight. 
But, to say truth, I doiiT plume myself on. possessing more 
than an average share of the qualities of the terrier-dog. 
When niggei’s are to be hunted out of holes in the mount- 
ains like rabbits, I will do what in me lies to aid in the 
work; but I had rather be led than lead if you can find a 
better man. 

Thorwald said this with a rueful countenance, for he had 
hoped to have settled this war in a pitched battle; and 
there were few things tire worthy man seemed to enjoy more 
than a stand-up fight on level ground. A fair field and no 
favor was his delight; but climbing the hills was his mor- 
tal aversion. He was somewhat too corpulent and short of 
wind for that. 

‘‘Come, Gascoyne, said Henry; “you know more 
about the savages than anybody here; and if I remember 
rightly, you have told me that you are acquainted with 
most of the mountain-passes. 

“ With all of .them, lacl,^Hnterposed Gascoyne; “ I know 
every pass and cavern on the island. 

“ What, then, would you advise?^^ asked Montague. 

“ If a British officer can put himself under a simple trad- 
ing skipper,^'’ said Gascoyne, “ I may perhaps show what 
ought to be done in this emergency. 

“ I can co-operate with any one who proves himself 
worthy of confidence,’^ retorted Montague, sharply. 

“ AVell, then,’’ continued the other, “ it is vain to think 
of doing any good by a disorderly chase into mountains like 
these. I would advise that our forces be divided into three. 
One band under Mr. Thorwald should go round by the 
Goat’s Pass, to which I will guide him, and cut off the re- 
treat of the savages there; another party under my friend 
Henry Stuart should give chase in the direction in which 
4ttle x\lice- seems to have been taken; and a third party, 


68 GASCOYKE, THE SAHDAL-WOOD TRADEK. 

consisting of his majesty^’s vessel the ‘ Talisman and crew, 
should proceed round to the north side of the island and 
bombard the native village/^ 

“ The Goat’s Pass/’ growled Thorwald, ‘‘ sounds un- 
pleasantly rugged and ste^ in the ears of a man of my 
weight and years. Mister Gascoyne. But if there’s no 
easier style of work to be done, I fancy I must be content 
with what falls to my lot. ’’ 

And truly,” added Montague, “ methinks you might 
have assigned me a more useful, as well as more congenial 
occupation, than the bombardment of a mud village full of 
women and children; for I doubt not that every able-bodied 
man has left it, to go on this expedition.” 

“ You’ll not find the Goat’s Pass so bad as you think, 
good Thorwald,” returned Gascoyne; for I propose that 
the ‘ Talisman ’ or her boats should convey you and your 
men to the foot of it, after which your course will be in- 
deed rugged, but it will be short; merely to scale the face 
of a precipice that would frighten a goat to think of, and 
then a plain descent into the valley, where, I doubt not, 
these villains will be found in force; and where, certainly, 
they will not look for the appearance of a stout generalis- 
simo of half -savage troops. As for the bombarding of a 
mud village, Mr. Montague, I should have expected a well- 
trained British officer ready to do his duty, whether that 
duty were agreeable or otherwise. 

“My didy, certainly,” interrupted the 3^onng captain, 
hotly; “ but I have yet to learn that your orders constitute 
my duty. ” 

The bland smile with which Gascoyne listened to this 
tended rather to irritate than to soothe Montague’s feel- 
ings; but he curbed the passion which stirred his breast, 
while the other went on: 

“No doubt the bombarding of a defenseless village is 
not pleasant work; but the result will be important, for it 
will cause the whole army of savages to rush to the protec- 
tion of their women and children, thereby disconcerting 
their plans — supposing them to have any — and enabling us to 
attack them while assembled in 'force. It is the nature of 
savages to scatter, and so to puzzle trained forces; and no 
doubt those of his majesty are well trained. But ‘ one 
touch of nature makes the whole world kin/ says a great 
authority; and it is wonderful how useful a knowledge of 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TKADER. 69 

the various touches of nature is in the art of war. It may 
not have oecurred to Mr. Montague that savages have a 
tendency to love and protect their wives and children, as 
well as civilized men, and that — 

Pray, cease your irrelevant remarks; they are ill- 
timed, said Montague, impatiently. “ Let us hear the 
remainder of your suggestions. I shall judge of their 
value, and act accordingly. You have not yet told us what 
part you yourself intend to play in this game.^" 

‘‘ I mean to accompany Captain Montague, if he will 
permit nie.^'’ 

‘‘How! go with me in the ‘ Talisman said Mon- 
tague, surprised at the man's coolness, and puzzled by his 
impudence. 

“ Even so," said Gasco3me. 

“ Well, I have no objection, of course; but it seems to 
me that you would be more useful at the head of a party of 
your own men. ' ' 

“ Perhaps I might," replied Gascoyne; “but the coral 
reefs are dangerous on the north side of the island, and it 
is important that one well acquainted with them should 
guide your vessel. Besides, I have a trusty mate, and if 
you will permit me to send my old shipmate John Bumpus 
across the hills, he will convey all needful instructions to 
the ‘ Foam. ' " 

This was said in so quiet and straightforward a tone that 
Montague's wrath vanished. He felt ashamed of having 
shown so much petulance at a time when affairs of so great 
importance ought to have been calmly discussed; so he at 
once agreed to allow Bumpus to go. Meanwhile, Henry 
Stuart, who had been fretting with impatience at this con- 
versation, suddenly exclaimed: 

“ It seems to me, sirs, that you are wasting precious 
time just now. I, at least, am quite satisfied with the 
duty assigned to me; so I'm off: ho! who will join me?" 

“ I'm your man," cried Corrie, starting up and flour- 
ishing the broken saber above his head. At the same mo- 
ment about a hundred natives ranged themselves round 
the youth, thus indicating that they, too, were his men. 

“Well, lad, away you. go," said Gascoyne, smiling; 
“but Master Corrie must remain with me." 

“ I'll do notliing of the sort," said Corrie, stoutly. 

“ Oh yes 3^ou will, my boy. I want you to guide my 


70 GASC0YKE, THE SAKDAL-WOOD TRADER. 

man Bumpiis over the mountains. You know the passes, 
and he don't. It's all for the good of the cause, you know 
— the saving of little Alice." 

Oorrie wavered. The idea of being appointed, as it 
were, to a separate command, and of going with his new 
friend, was a strong temptation, and the assurance that he 
would in some way or other be advancing the business in 
hand settled the matter. He consented to b^ecome obedient. 

In about half an hour all Gascoyne's plans were in course 
of being carried out. Ole Thorwald and his party proceed- 
ed on board the “ Talisman," which weighed anchor, and 
sailed, with a light breeze, toward the north end of the 
island — guided through the dangerous reefs by Gascoyne. 
Henry and his followers were toiling nimbly up the hills in 
the direction indicated by the little foot-prints of Alice; and 
John Bumpus, proceeding into the mountains in another 
direction, pushed, under the guidance of Corrie, toward the 
bay, where the ‘‘ Foam " still lay quietly at anchor. 

It was evening when these different parties set out on 
their various expeditions. The sun was descending to the 
horizon in a blaze of lurid light. The slight breeze, wdiich 
wafted His Britannic Majesty's ship slowly along the ver- 
dant shore, was scarcely strong enough to ruffle the surface 
of the sea. Huge banks of dark clouds were gathering in 
the sky, and a hot, unnatural closeness seemed to pervade 
the atmosphere, as if a storm were about to burst upon the 
scene. Everything, above and below, seemed to presage 
war — alike elemental and human ; and the various leaders 
of the several expeditions felt that the approaching night 
would tax their powers and resources to the uttermost. 

It was, then, natural that in such circumstances the be- 
reaved father should be distracted with anxiety as to which 
party he should join; and it was also natural that one 
whose life had been so lon^ devoted to the special service of 
God should, before deciding on the point, ask, on his 
knees, his heavenly Father's guidance. 

He finally resolved to accompany the party under com- 
mand of Henry Stuart. 


GASCOYKE, THE SAKHAL-WOOD TRADEE. 


71 


CHAPTER X. 

THE PURSUIT.— POOPY, LED 0 ^ BY" LOVE AND HATE, 
RUSHES TO THE RESCUE. 

The shades of night had begun to descend upon the 
island when Master Corrie reached the summit of the 
mountain ridge that divided the bay in which the “ Foam 
was anchored from the settlement of Sandy Cove. 

Close on his heels followed the indomitable Jo Bumpus, 
who panted vehemently and perspired profusely from his 
unwonted exertions. 

“Wot an object you are!’' exclaimed Corrie, gazing at 
the hot giant Avith a look of mingled surprise and glee; for 
the boy's spirit was of that nature which can not repress a 
dash of fun, even in the midst of anxiety and sorrow. We 
would not have it understood that the boy ever deliberately 
mingled the two things — joy and sorrow — at one and the 
same time; but he was so irresistibly alive to the ludicrous, 
that a touch of it was sufficient at any time to cause him to 
forget, for a brief space, his anxieties, whatever these 
might be. 

Jo Bumpus smiled benignantly, and said that he “ was 
glad to hear it." For Jo had conceived for the boy that 
species of fondness which large dogs are frequently known 
to entertain for small ones — permitting them to take out- 
rageous liberties with their persons which they would resent 
furiously were they attempted by other dogs. 

Presently the warm visage of Bumpus elongated-, and his 
eyes opened uncommonly wide, as he stared at a particular 
spot in the ground; insomuch that Corrie burst into an un- 
controllable fit of laughter. 

“ O Grampus! you'll kill me if you go on like that," 
said he; “I can't stand it — indeed I can't. Sichaface! 
l)'ye know what it's like?" 

Jo expressed no desire to become enlightened on this 
point, but continued to gaze so earnestly that Corrie started 
up and exclaimed : 

“ What is it, Jo?" 

“ A flit," replied Jo. 

“A foot-print, I declare!" shouted the boy, springing 
forward and examining the print, which was pretty clearly 


72 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TKADER. 


defined in a little patch of soft sand that Jay on the bare 
rock. “ Why, Jo! it^s Poopy’s. I"d know it anywhere, by 
the bigness of the little toe. How can she have come up 
here?^'’ 

“ I say, lad, hist!^^ said Bumpus, in a hoarse whisper; 
“ here^s another fut that don^’t belong to— whak’s her name 
— Puppy, did ye say?^^ 

“ Why, it^s *Ahce%^^ whispered the boy, his face becom- 
ing instantly grave, while an unwonted expression of anxi- 
ety crossed it ; ‘‘ and here^s that of a savage beside it. He 
must have changed his intention; or, perhaps, he came 
this way to throw the people who were chasing them off the 
scent. 

Corrie was right. Finding that he was hotly pursued, 
Keona had taken advantage of the first rocky ground he 
reached to diverge abruptly from the route he had hitherto 
followed in his flight; and, the further to confuse his pur- 
suers, he had taken the almost exhausted child up in his 
arms and carried her a considerable distance, so that if his 
enemies should fall again on his track the absence of the 
httle foot-prints might induce them to fancy they were fol- 
lowing up a wrong scent. 

In this he was so far successful; for the native settlers, 
as we have seen, soon gave up the chase, and returned with 
one of the Childs’s shoes, which had fallen off unobserved by 
the savage. 

But there was one of the pursuers who was far ahead of 
the others, and who was urged to continue the chase by the 
strongest of all motives — love. Poor Kekupoopi had no 
sooner heard of the abduction of her young mistress than 
she had set off at the top of her speed to a well-known 
height in the mountains, whence, from a great distance, 
she could observe all that went on below. On the wings of 
affection she had flown, rather than walked, to this point 
of observation, and, to her delight, saw not only the pur- 
suers, but the fugitives in the valley below. She kept her 
glowing eyes fixed on them, hastening from rock to rock 
and ridge to ridge, as intervening obstacles hid them from 
view, until she saw the stratagem, just referred to, prac- 
ticed by Keona. Then, feeling that she had no power of 
voice to let the pursuers know what had occurred, and see- 
ing that they would certainly turn back on being baffled, 
she resolved to keep up the chase herself — trusting to acci- 


GASCOYKE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADEll. 73 

dent to alford her an opportunity of rendering aid to Alice; 
or, rather, trusting to God to help her in her great diffi- 
culty; for the poor child had been well trained in the mis- 
sionary's house, and love had been the teacher. 

Taking a short cut down into the valley — ^for she was 
well acquainted with all the wild and rugged paths of the 
mountains in the immediate neighborhood of the settle- 
ment — she was so fortunate as to reach a narrow pass 
through which Keona and Alice must needs go. Arriving 
there a short time before they did, she was able to take a 
few minutes^ rest before resuming the chase. 

Little did the wily savage think that a pair of eyes as 
dark and bright, though not so fierce, as liis own, were 
gazing at him from behind the bushes as he sped up that 
narrow gorge. 

Poor Alice was running and stumbling by his side; for 
the monster held her by the hand and dragged her along, 
although she was scarcely able to stand. The heart of the 
black girl well-nigh burst with anger when she observed 
that both her shoes and stockings had been torn off in the 
hasty flight, and that her tender feet were cut and bleed- 
ing. 

Just as they reached the spot near which Poopy was con- 
cealed, the child sunk with a low wail to the ground, un- 
able to advance another step. Keona seized her in his arms, 
and, uttering a growl of anger as he threw her rudely over 
his shoulder, bore her swiftly away. 

But, quick though his step was, it could not outrun that 
of the poor little dark maiden who followed him like his 
shadow, carefully keeping out of view, however, while her 
mind was busy with plans for the deliverance of her young 
mistress. The more she thought, the more she felt how 
utterly hopeless would be any attempt that she could make, 
either by force or stratagem, to pluck her from the grasp 
of one so strong and subtle as Keona. At length she re- 
solved to give up thinking of plans altogether, and take to 
prayer instead. 

On reacliing the highest ridge of the mountains, Keona 
suddenly stopped, placed Alice on a flat rock, and went to 
the top of a peak not more than fifty yards off. Here he 
lay down and gazed long and earnestly over the country 
through which they had just passed, evidently for the purr 


74 GASCOYKE_, THE SAHHAL-WOOH TKADER. 

pose of .discovering, if possible, tlie position and motions of 
his enemies. 

Poopy, whose wits were sharpened by love, at once took 
advantage of her opportunity. She crept on all fours to- 
ward the rock on which Alice lay, in such a manner that it 
came between her person and the savage. 

‘‘ Missy Alice! 0 Missy Alice! quick! look up! it^s me 
— Poopy,"" said the girl, raising her head cautiously above 
the edge of the rock. 

Alice started up on one elbow, and was about to utter a 
scream of delight and surprise, when her sable friend laid 
her black paw suddenly on the child" s pretty mouth, and 
effectually shut it up. 

“ Hush! Alice; no cry. Savage hear and come back — ■ 
kill Poopy bery much quick. Listen. Me all alone. A^ou 
bery dibber. Dry up eyes, no cry any more. Look happy. 
God will save you. Poopy nebber leave you as long as got 
her body in her soul. "" 

J ust at this point, Keona rose from his recumbent posi- 
tion, and the girl, who had not suffered her eyes to move 
from him for a single instant, at once sunk behind the rock 
and crept so silently away that Alice could scarcely joersu- 
ade herself that she had not been dreaming. 

The savage, returned, took the child" s hand, led her over 
the brow of the mountain, and began to descend, by a steep, 
rugged path, to the valleys lying on the other side of the 
island. But before going a hundred yards down the dark 
gorge — which was rendered all the darker by the approach 
of night — he turned abruptly aside, and entered the mouth 
of a cavern, and disappeared. 

Poopy was horrified at this unexpected and sudden 
change in the state of things. For a long time she lay 
closely hid among the rocks, within twenty yards of the 
cave"s mouth, expecting every moment to see the fugitives 
issue from its dark recesses. But they did not reappear. 
All at once it occurred to the girl that there might possibly 
be an exit from the cavern at the other end of it, and that, 
while she was idly waiting there, her little mistress and her 
savage captor might be hastening down the mountain far 
beyond her reach. 

Pendered desperate by this idea, she quitted her place of 
concealment, and ran recklessly into the cavern. But the 
place was dark as Erebus, and the ground was so rugged 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADER. 75 

that she tripped and fell before she had advanced into it 
more than fifty yards. 

Bruised by the fall, and overawed by the gloom of her sit- 
uation, the poor girl lay still for some time where she had 
fallen, with bated breath, and listening intently; but no 
sound struck her ear save the beating of her own heart, 
which appeared to her unnaturally loud. Under an im- 
pulse of terror, she rose, and ran back into the open air. 

Here it occurred to her that she might perhaps find the 
other outlet to the cave — supposing that one really existed 
— by going round the hill and carefully examining the 
ground on the other side. This, however, was a matter re- 
quiring considerable time, and it was not until a full hour 
had expired that she returned to the mouth of the cave, 
and sat down to rest and consider what should be done next. 

To enter the dark recesses of the place without a light 
she knew would be impossible as well as useless, and she 
had no means of procuring a light. Besides, even if she 
had, what good could come of her exploration? The next 
impulse was to hasten back to the settlement at full speed 
and guide a party to the place; but, was it likely that the 
savage would remain long in the cave? This question sug- 
gested her former idea of the possible existence of another 
outlet; and as she thought upon Alice being now utterly 
beyond her reach, she covered her face with her hands and 
burst into tears. After a short time she began to pray. 
Then, as the minutes flew past, and her hopes sunk lower 
and lower, she commenced — like many a child of Adam 
who thinks himself considerably wiser than^ a black girl — 
to murmur at her hard lot. This she did in an audible 
voice, having become forgetful of, as well as indifferent to, 
the chance of discovery. 

‘‘Oh! w^at for was me born?^^ she inquired, somewhat 
viciously; and not being able, apparently, to answer this 
question, she proceeded to comment in a wildly sarcastic 
tone on the impropriety of her having been brought into 
existence at all. 

“ Me should be dead. W^at^s de use o^ life w^en urns 
nothin^ to live for? Alice gone! Darling Alice! Oh dear! 
Me wish I wasnT never had been born; yes me do! Don’t 
care for meself ! Wouldn’t give nuffin for meself ! Only 
fit to tend Missy Alice! Not fit for nuffin else. And now 


7G GASCOYNE^ THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. 

Alice gone — whar^ to nobody nose an^ iiobody care, ^xcept 
Poopy, who^s not worth a brass button 

Having given utterance to this last expression, which she 
had acquired from her friend Corrie, the poor girl began to 
howl in order to relieve her insupportable feelings. 

It was at this point in our story that Master Corrie, and 
his companion the Grampus, having traced the before-men- 
tioned foot-prints for a considerable distance, became cog- 
nizant of sundry unearthly sounds, on hearing which, never 
having Heard anything like them before, these wanderers 
stood still in attitudes of breathless attention, and gazed at 
each other with looks of indescribable amazement, not alto- 
gether unmixed with a dash of consternation. 


CHAPTEE XL . 

A GHOST. — A TERRIBLE COMBAT ENDING IN A DREADFUL 
PLUNGE. 

‘‘ Corrie, said Jo Bumpus, solemnly, with a troubled 
expression on his grave face, “ IVe heercl a many a cry in 
this life, both ashore and afloat; but, since I was half as 
long as a marline-spike, IVe never heerd the likes o'* that 
there screech nowhere. 

At any other time the boy would have expressed a doubt 
as to the possibility of the Grampus having, at any period 
of his existence, been so short as “ half the length of a 
marline ispike;^^ but, being very imaginative by nature, and 
having been encouraged to believe in ghosts by education, 
he was too frightened to be funny. With a face that might 
very well have passed for that of a ghost, and a very pale 
ghost too, he said, in a tremulous voice: 

“ Oh dear! Bumpus; what shall we do?^^ 

“Dun know,^^ replied Jo, very sternly; for the stout 
mariner also believed in ghosts, as a matter of course, al- 
though he would not admit it; and, being a man of iron 
mold and powerful will, there was at that moment going 
on within his capacious breast a terrific struggle between 
natural courage and supernatural cowardice. 

“ Let’s go back,” whispered Corrie. “ I know another 
pass over the hills. It’s a longer one, to be sure; but we 
can run, you know, to make for — ” 

He was struck dumb and motionless at this point by 


CtAScoyke, the sandal-wood trader. 77 

the recurrence of the dreadful howling, louder than ever, 
as poor Poopy^s despair, deepened. 

Don" t speak to me, boy, said Bumpus, still more 
sternly, while a cold sweat stood in-large beads on his pale 
forehead. “ Here "s wot I calls somethin" new; an" it be- 
comes a man, specially a British seaman, d "ye see, to in- 
quire into new things in a reasonable sort of way."" 

Jo caught his breath, and clutched the rock beside him 
powerfully, as he continued: 

‘‘It ain"t a ghost, in course; \i canH be that. Cause 
why.P there" s no sich a thhig as a ghost."" 

“ Ain"t there?"" whispered Corrie, hopefully. 

The hideous yell that Poppy here set up seemed to give 
the lie direct to the skeptical seaman; but he went on de- 
liberately, though with a glazed eye and a death-like pallor 
on his face — 

“Ho; there aint no ghosts — never wos, an" never will 
be. All ghosts is sciencrific dolusions, nothing more; and 
it"s only the hignorant an" supercilious as b"lieves in "em. I 
don"t; an", wot"s more,"" added Jo, with tremendous de- 
cision, “ I 

At this point, the “ sciencrific delusion "" recurred to 
her former idea of alarming the settlement; and with this 
view began to retrace her steps, howling as she went. 

Of course, as Jo and his small companion had been 
guided by her footsteps, it followed that Poopy, in retrac- 
ing them, gradually drew near to the terrified pair. The 
short twilight of those regions had already deepened into 
the shades of night; so that the poor girPs form was- not at 
first visible, as she advanced from among the dark shadows 
of the overhanging cliffs and the large masses of scattered 
rock that lay strewn about that wild mountain-pass. 

Now, although John Bumpus succeeded, by an almost 
supernatural effort in calming the tumultuous agitation of 
his spirit, while the wild cries of the girl w^ere at some dis- 
tance, he found himself utterly bereft of speech when the 
dreadful sounds unmistakably approached him. Corrie, 
too, became livid, and both were rooted to the spot in un- 
utterable horror; hut when the ghost at length actually 
came into view, and (owing to Poopy"s body being dark, 
and her garments white) presented the appearance of a 
dimly luminous creature, without head, arms, or legs, the 
last spark of endurance in man and boy went out. The 


78 


GASCOYKE, THE SAHDAL-WOOD TRADEll. 


one gave a roar, the other a shriek of terror, and both 
turned and fled like the wind over a sti’etch of country, 
Avhich, in happier circumstances, they would have crossed 
with caution. 

Poopy helped to accelerate their flight by giving vent to 
a cry of fear, and thereafter to a yell of delight, as, from 
her point of view, she recognized the well-known outline 
of Oorrie’s flgure clearly defined against the sky. She ran 
after them in frantic haste; but she might as well have 
chased a couple of wild cats. Either terror is gifted with 
better wings than hope, or males are better runners than 
females. Perhaps both propositmns are true; but certain 
it is that Poopy soon began to perceive that the succor 
which had appeared so suddenly was about to vanish al- 
most as quickly. 

In this new dilemma, the girl once more availed herself 
of her slight knowledge of the place, and made a detour 
which enabled her to shoot ahead of the fugitives and in- 
tercept them in one of the narrowest parts of the mountain 
gorge. Here, instead of using her natural voice, she con- 
ceived that the likeliest way of making her terrified friends 
understand who she was, would be to shout with all the 
strength of her lungs. Accordingly, she planted lierself 
suddenly in tne center of their path, just as the two came 
tearing blindly round a corner of rock, and set up a series 
of yells, the nature of which utterly beggars description. 

The result was, that, with one short wild cry of renewed 
horror, Bumpus and Corrie turned sharp round and fled in 
the opposite direction. 

There is no doubt whatever that they would have suc- 
ceeded in ultimately escaping from this pertinacious ghost, 
and poor Poopy would have liad to make the best of her 
way to Sandy Cove alone, but for the fortunate circum- 
stance that Corrie fell; and being only a couple of paces in 
advance of his companion, Bumpus fell over him. 

The ghost took advantage of this to run forward, crying 
out, “Corrie! Corrie! Corrie! iPs me! me! Me!"” with 
all her might. 

“Eh! I do believe it knows my nameP^ cried the boy, 
scrambling to his feet, and preparing to renew his flight; 
but Bumpus laid his heavy hand on his collar, and held 
him fast. 

“Wot! Did it speak 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TIUDER. 


79 


“Yes; listen! Oh, dear! Come — fly!^^ 

Instead of flying, the seaman heaved a deep sigh; and, 
sitting down on a rock, took out a reddish-brown cotton 
handkerchief, wherewith he wiped his forehead. 

“ My boy,^^ said he, still panting; “ it ain't a ghost. No 
ghost wos ever known to sjjeak. They looks, an' they runs, 
an' they yells, an' they vanishes, but they never speaks; 
d'ye see?- I told ye it was a sciencrific dolusion; though, 
I'm bound for to confess, I never heerd o' vcm o' them 
critters speakin', no more than the ghosts. Howsome- 
dever, that's wot it is. " 

Corrie, who still hesitated, and held himself in readiness 
to bolt at a moment's notice^ suddenly cried , 

“ Whyl^Zo believe it's — No; it can't be — ^yes — I say, 
it's Poopy!” 

“ Wot's Poopy?" inquired the seaman, in some anxiety. 

“ What! don't you know Poopy, Alice's black maid, who 
keeps her company, and looks after her; besides ‘ doin' ' 
li^r, and ‘ undoin' ' her (as she calls it), night and morning, 
and putting her to bed? Hooray! Poopy, my lovely 
black darling; where have you come from? You've fright- 
ened Bumpus here nearly out of his wits. I do believe 
he'd have bin dead by this time, but for me!" 

So saying, Corrie, in the revulsion of his suddenly re- 
lieved feelings, actually threw his arms round Poopy, and 
hugged her. 

“ 0 Corrie!" exclaimed the girl, submitting to the em- 
brace with as much indifference .as if she had been a lamp- 
post, “ w'at troble you hab give me! Why you run so? 
sure, you know me voice." 

“ Know it, my sweet lump of charcoal; I'd know it 
among a thousand, if ye'd only use it in its own pretty nat- 
ural tones; but if you will go and screech like a bottle-imp, 
you know," said Corrie, remonstratively, “how can you 
expect a ctupid feller like me to recognize it?" 

“ There ain't no sich things as bottle-imps, no more nor 
ghosts," observed Bumpus; “but hold your noise, you 
chatterbox, and let's hear wot the gal's got to say. May- 
hap she knows summat about Alice?" 

At this, Poopy manufactured an expression on her sable 
countenance which was meant to be intensely knowing and 
suggestive. ■ 

“ Don't I? Yes, me do," said she. 


80 GASCOYNE, THE SAN DAL- WOOD TRADEK. 

“’Out with it, then, at once, you pot of shoe-blacking,’^ 
cried the impatient Corrie. 

The girl immediately related all that she knew regarding 
the fugitives, stammering very much from sheer anxiety to 
get it all out as fast as she could, and delaying her com- 
munication very much in consequence, besides rendering 
her meaning rather obscure — - sometimes unintelligible. 
Indeed, the worthy seamen could scarcely understand a 
word she said. He sat staring at the whites of her e3'’es, 
which, with her teeth, were the only visible parts of her 
countenance . at tiiat moment, and swayed his body to and 
fro, as if endeavoring by a mechanical effort to arrive at a 
philosophical conception of something exceedingly abstruse. 
But at the end of each period he turned to Corrie for a 
translation. 

At length both man and boy became aware of the state 
of things, and Corrie started up, crying: 

“ Let’s go into the cave at once.” 

“ Hold on, boy,” cried Bumpus, “ not quite so fast (as 
the monkey said to the barrel-organ w’en it took to playin’ 
Scotch reels). We must have a council of war; d’ye see? 
The black monster Keona may have gone right through 
the cave and corned out at t’other end of it, in w’ich case 
it’s all ujD with our chance o’ finding ’em to-night. But if 
they’ve gone in to spend the night there, why we’ve noth- 
in’ to do but watch at the mouth of it till mornin’ an’ nab 
’em as they comes out.” 

“Yes; but how are we to know whether they’re in the 
cave or not?” said Corrie, impatiently. 

“Ah! that’s the puzzler, ” replied Bumpus, in a medi- 
tative way; “ but, of course, we must look out for puzzlers 
ahead sometimes w’en we gets into a land storm, d’ye see; 
just as we looks out ahead for breakers in a storm at sea. 
Suppose now that I creeps into the cave and listens for 
’em. They’d never hear me, ’cause I’d make no noise.” 

“You might as well try to sail into it in a big ship with- 
out making noise, you Grampus.” 

To this the Grampus observed, that if the cave had only 
three fathoms of water in the bottom of it he would have 
no objections whatever to try. 

“ But,” added he, “ suppose you go in. ” 

Corrie shook his head, and looked anxiously miserable. 

“ Well, then,” said Bumpus, “ suppose we light two 


GASCOYKE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. 81 - 

torches. 1^11 take one in one hand, and this here cutlash 
in the other; and jour’ll take toother torch in one hand and 
your pistol in the other, and clap that bit of a broken sword 
Hween yer teeth, and we ^11 give a ^orrid screech, and rush 
in, pell-mell — all of a heap like. You could fire yer pistol 
straight before you on chance (it^s wonderful wot a chance 
shot will do sometimes); an’ if it don’t do nothin’, fling it 
right into the blackguard’s face; a brass-mounted tool like 
that ketchin’ him right on the end of his peak would lay 
him flat over, like a ship in a white squall.” 

“ And suppose,” said Oorrie, in a tone of withering sar- 
casm — “ suppose all this happened to Alice, instead of the 
dirty nigger?” 

‘‘Ah! to be sure. That’s a puzzler — puzzler number 
two. ” 

Here Poopy, who had listened with great impatience to 
the foregoing conversation, broke in energetically. 

“An’ s’ pose,” said she, “ dat Keona and Missy Alice 
comes out ob cave w’en you two be talkerin’ sich a lot of 
stuff?” 

It may as well be remarked, in passing, that Poopy h^ 
acquired a considerable amount of her knowledge of En- 
glish from Master Corrie. Her remark, although not 
politely made, was sufficiently striking to cause Bumpus to 
start up, and exclaim : 

“ That’s true, gal. Come show us the way to this here 
cave.” 

There was a fourth individual present at this council of 
war who apparently felt a deep interest in its results, al- 
though he took no part in its proceedings. This was no 
other than Keona himself, who lay extended at full length 
among the rocks, not two yards from the spot where Bum- 
pus sat, listening intently, and grinning from ear to ear 
with fiendish malice. 

The series of shrieks, howls, and yells to which reference 
has been made had naturally attracted the attention of that 
wily savage when he was in the cave. Following the sounds 
with quick, noiseless step, he soon found himself within a 
few paces of the deliberating trio. The savage did not 
make much of the con\ ersation, but he gathered sufficient 
to assure himself that his hiding-place had been discovered, 
and that plans were being laid for his capture. 

It would have been an easy matter for him to have sud- 


82 GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TKADER. 

denly leaped on the unsuspecting Bumpiis and driven n 
knife to his heart, after which poor Corrie and the girl 
could have been easily dealt with; but fortunately (at least' 
for his enemies, if not for himself) indecision in the mo- 
ment of action was one of Keona^’s besetting sins. He sus- 
pected that other enemies might be near at hand, 9;nd that 
the noise of the scuffle might draw them to the spot. He 
observed, moreover, that the boy had a pistol, which, be- 
sides being a weapon that acts quickly and surely, even in 
weak hands, would give a loud report and a bright Hash 
that might be heard and seen at a great distance. Taking 
these things into consideration, he thrust back the knife 
which he had half unsheathed, and, retreating with the 
slow, gliding motion of a serpent, got beyond the chance of 
being detected, just as Bumpus rose to follow Poopy to the 
cave. 

The savage entered its yawning mouth in a few seconds, 
and glided noiselessly into its dark recesses like an evil 
spirit. Soon after, the trio reached the same spot, and 
stood for some time silently gazing upon the thick darkness 
within. 

A feeling of awe crept over them as they stood thus, and 
a shudder j)assed through Corrie’s frame as he thought of 
the innumerable ghosts that might — probably did — inhabit 
that dismal place. But the thought of Alice served partly 
to drive away his fears and steel his heart. He felt that 
the presence of such a sweet and innocent child must, 
somehow or other, subdue and baffle the power of evil 
spirits, and it was with some show of firmness that he 
said: 

“ Come, Bumpus, let^s go in. We are better without a 
torch;- it would only show that we were coming; and as 
theydonT expect us, the savage may perhaps kindle a light 
which will guide us.^^ 

Bumpus, who was not restrained by any thoughts of the 
supposed power or infiuence of the little girl, and whose 
superstitious fears were again doing furious battle with his 
natural courage, heaved a deep sigh, ground his teeth to- 
gether, and clinched his fists. 

Even in that dreadful hour the seaman^’s faith in his 
physical invincibility, and in the terrible power of his fists, 
did not altogether fail. Although he wore a cutlass, and 
had used it that day with tremendous efi*ect, ho did not now 


GASCOYNE, THE SANBA L- WOOD TRADER. 83 

draw it. He preferred to engage supernatural enemies 
with the weapons that nature had given him, and entered 
the cave on tiptoe with slow, cautious steps, his fists tight- 
ly clinched and ready for instant action, yet thrust into 
the pockets of his coatee in a deceptively peaceful way, as if 
lie meant to take the ghosts by surprise. 

Corrie followed him, also on tiptoe, with the broken 
saber in his right hand, and the cocked pistol in his left, 
his forefinger being on the trigger, and the muzzle pointing 
straight at the small of the seaman '’s back — if one may be 
permitted to talk of such an enormous back having any 
‘‘ small about it! 

Poopy entered last, also on tiptoe, trembling violently, 
holding on with both hands to the waistband of Corners 
trousers, and only restrained from instant flight by her 
anxieties and her strong love for little Alice. 

Thus, step by step, with bated breath and loudly beating 
hearts, pausing often to listen,, and gasping in a subdued 
way at times, the three friends advanced from the gloom 
without into the thick darkness within, until their gliding 
forms were swallowed up. 

Now it so happened that the shouts and yells to which 
we have more than once made reference in this chapter 
attracted a band of savages who had been put to flight by 
Henry Stuark’s party. These rascals, not knowing what 
was the cause of so much noise up on the heights, and be- 
ing much too well acquainted with the human voice in all 
its modifications to fancy that ghosts had anytliing to do 
with it, cautiously ascended toward the cavern, just a few 
minutes after the disappearance of John Eumpus and his 
companions. 

Here they sat down to hold a palaver. While this was 
going on, Keona carried Alice in his unwounded arm to 
the other end of the cave, and, making his exit through a 
small opening at its inner extremity, bore his trembling 
captive to a rocky eminence, shaped somewhat like a sugar- 
loaf, on the summit of which he placed her. So steep were 
the sides of this cone of lava, that it seemed to Alice that 
she was surrounded by precipices over which she must cer- 
tainly fumble if she dared to move. 

Here Keona left her, having first, however, said, in a 
low, stern voice: 

“ If you moves, you dies!” 


84 GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TKADER. 

Tlie poor child was too much terrified to move, even had 
she dared; for she, too, had heard the unaccountable cries 
of Poopy, although, owing to distance and the wild nature 
of these cries, she had failed to recognize the voice. When, 
therefore, her jailer left her with this threat, she coiled her- 
self up in the smallest possible space, and began to sob. 

Meanwhile, Keona re-entered the cavern, with a diabol- 
ical grin on his sable countenance, which, although it savored 
more of evil than of any other quality, had in it, neverthe- 
less, a strong dash of ferocious joviality, as if he were aware 
that he had got his enemies into a trap, and could amuse 
himself by playing with them as a cat does with a mouse. 

Soon the savage began to step cautiously, partly because 
of the rugged nature of the ground and the thick darkness 
that surrounded him, and partly in order to avoid alarm- 
ing the three adventurers who were advancing toward him 
from the other extremity of the cavern. In a few minutes 
he halted; for the footsteps and the whispering voices of 
his pursuers became distinctly audible to him, although all 
three did their best to make as little noise as possible. 

“ What a ^orrid place it is!^^ exclaimed Bumpus, in a 
hoarse, angry whisper, as he struck liis shins violently, for 
at least the tenth time, against a ledge of rock. ‘‘ I do 
bfiieve, boy, that there’s nobody here, and that we’d as 
well ’bout ship and steer back the way we’ve corned; tho’ 
it is a ’orrible coast for rocks and shoals. ’ ’ 

To this, Corrie, not being in a talkative humor, made no 
reply. 

“ D’ye hear me, boy?” said Jo, aloud, for he was some- 
what shaken again by the dead silence that followed the 
close of his remark. 

‘‘ All right; I’m here;” said Corrie, meekly. 

“ Then why don’t ye speak?” said Jo, tartly. 

“ I’d advise you not to speak so loud,” retorted the boy. 

“ Is the dark ’im there?” inquired Bumpus. 

“ What d’ye say?” 

“ The dark ’un; the lump o’ charcoal, you know.” 

“ Oh! she’s all safe,” replied Corrie. “ I only hope she 
won’t haul the clothes right olf my body; she grips at my 
waistband like a — ” 

Here he was cut short by Keona, who gave utterance to 
a low, dismal wail that caused the blood and marrow of all 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. 85 

three to freeze up, and their hearts for a moment to leap 
into their throats and all but choke them. 

“ Poopy’s gone,^' gasped Corrie, after a few seconds had 
elapsed. 

There was no doubt of the fact; for, besides the relief 
experienced by the boy, from the relaxing of her grip on 
his waistband, the moment the wail was heard, the sound 
of the girPs footsteps as she flew back to the entrance of 
the cave was distinctly heard. 

Keona waited a minute or two to ascertain the exact 
position of his enemies, then he repeated the wail, and 
swelled it gradually out into a fiendish yell that awoke all 
the echoes of the place. At the same time, guessing his 
aim as well as he could, he threw a spear and discharged a 
shower of stones at the spot where he supposed they stood. 
There is no understanding the strange workings of the hu- 
man mind! The very tiling that most people would have 
expected to strike terror to the heart of Bumpus was that 
which infused courage into his soul. The frightful tones 
of the savage’s voice in such a place did indeed almost 
prostrate the superstitious spirit of the seaman; but when 
he heard the spear whiz past within an inch of his ear, and 
received a large stone full on his chest, and several small 
ones on other parts of his person, that instant his strength 
returned to him, like that of' Samson when the Philistines 
attempted to fall upon him. His curiously philosophical 
mind at once leaped to the conclusion that, although ghosts 
could yell, and look, and vanish, they could not throw 
spears or fling stones, and that, therefore, the man they 
were in search of was actually close beside them. 

Acting on this belief, with immense subtlety Bumpus 
uttered a cry of feigned terror, and fled, followed by the 
panting Corrie, who uttered a scream of real terror at what 
he supposed must be the veritable ghost of the place. 

But before ‘he had rmi fifty yards, John Bumpus sudden- 
ly came to a dead halt, seized Corrie by the collar, dragged 
him down behind a rock, and laid his large hand upon his 
mouth, as being the shortest and easiest way of securing 
silence, without the trouble of explanation. 

As he had anticipated, the soft tread of the savage was 
heard almost immediately after, as he passed on in full 
pursuit. He brushed close past the spot where Bumpus 
crouched, and received from that able-bodied seaman such 


86 GASCOYKE, THE SAKHA L- WOOD TRADER. 

a blow on the shoulder of his wounded arm, as, had it been 
delivered in daylight, would have certainly smashed his 
shoulder-blade. As it was, it caused him to stagger, and 
sent him howling with pain to the mouth of the cavern, 
whither he was followed by the triumphant Jo, who now 
made sure of catching him. 

But “ there is many a slip ■’twixt the cup and the lip.^^ 
When Keona issued from the cave, he was received with a 
shout by the band of savages, who instantly recognized him 
as their friend by his voice. Poor Poopy was already in 
their hands, having been seized and gagged when she 
emerged before she had time to utter a cry. And now 
they stood in a semicircle, ready to receive all who might 
come forth into their arms, or on their spear points, as the 
case might be. 

Bumpus came out like an insane thunder-bolt, and Corrie 
like a streak of lightning. Instantaneously the flash of the 
pistol, accompanied by its report and a deep growl from 
Bumpus, increased the resemblance to these meteorological 
phenomena, and three savages lay stunned upon the ground. 

‘‘ This way, Corrie!'’^ cried the excited seaman, leaping 
to a perpendicular rock, against which he placed his back, 
and raised his flsts in a pugilistic attitude. ‘ ‘ Keep one or 
two in play with your broken toothpick, an’ I’ll floor ’em 
one after another as they comes up. Now, then, ye black 
baboons, come on — all at once if ye like — an’ Jo Bumpus 
’ll show ye wot he’s made of!” 

Not perceiving very clearly, in the dim light caused by a 
few stars that flickered among the black and gathering 
clouds, the immense size and power of the man with v/hom 
they had to deal, the savages were not slow to accept this 
free and generous invitation to come on. ” They rushed 
forward in a body, intending, no doubt, to take the man 
and boy prisoners; for if they had wished to slay them, 
nothing would have been easier than to have thrown one or 
two of their spears at their defenseless breasts. 

Bumpus experienced a vague feeling that he had now a 
fair opportunity of testing and proving his invineibility; 
yet the desperate nature of the case did not induce him to 
draw his sword. He preferred his fists, as being superior 
and much more handy weapons. He received the first two 
savages who came within reach on the knuckles of his right 
and left hands, rendering them utterly insensible, and 


GASCOYNE, THE SAKDAL-WOOD TRADElt. 87 

driving them against the two men immediately behind with 
such tremendous violence that they also were put hors de 
combat. 

This was just what Bumpus had intended and hoped for. 
The sudden fall of so many gave him time to launch out 
his great fists a second time. They fell with the weight of 
sledge-hammers on the faces of two more of his opponents, 
flattening their noses, and otherwise disfiguring their feat- 
ures, besides stretching them on the ground. At the same 
time Corrie flung his empty pistol in the face of a man who 
attempted to assault his companion on the right flank un- 
awares, and laid, him prone on the earth. Another savage, 
who made the same effort on the left, received a gash on 
the thigh from the broken saber that sent him howling 
from the scene of conflict. 

Thus were eight savages disposed of in about as many 
seconds. 

But there is a limit to the powers and the prowess of 
man. The savages, on seeing the fall of so many of their 
companions, rushed in on Bumpus before he could recover 
himself for another blow. That is to say, the savages be- 
hind pushed forward those in front whether they would or 
no, and falling en masse on the unfortunate pair, well- 
nigh buried them alive in black human flesh. 

Bumpus's last cry before being smothered was, ‘‘ Down 
with the black varmints!’^ and Corners last shout was, 
‘‘ Hooray 

Thus fell — despite the undignified manner of their fall — 
a couple of as great heroes as were ever heard of in the 
annals of war; not excepting even those of Homer himself. 

Now, good reader, this may be all very well for us to de- 
scribe, and for you to read, but it was a terrible thing for 
Poopy to witness. Being bound hand and foot, she was 
compelled to look on; and, to say truth, she did look on 
with uncommon interest. When her friends fell, however, 
she expressed her regrets and fears in a subdued shriek, 
for which she received a sounding slap on the cheek from a 
young savage who had chosen for himself the compara- 
tively dangerous post of watching her, while his less cou- 
rageous friends were fighting. 

Strange to say, Poopy did not shed more tears (as one 
might have expected) on receiving such treatment. She 
had been used to that sort of thing, poor child, Before 


88 


GASCOYITE;, THE SANDAL- WOOD TEADEK. 


coming to the service of her little mistress^ she had been 
brought up (it would be more strictly correct to say that 
she had been kicked, and cuffed, and pinched, and battered 
up) by a step-mother, whose chief delight was to pull out 
handfuls of her woolly hair, beat her nose flat (which was 
adding insult to injury, for it was too flat by nature), and 
otherwise to maltreat her. When, therefore, Poopy re- 
ceived the slap referred to, she immediately dried her eyes 
and looked humble. But she did not by any means feel 
humble. No; a regard for truth compels us to state that, 
on this particular occasion, Poopy acted the part of a 
hypocrite. If her hands had been loose, and she had 
possessed a knife just then — we are afraid to think of the 
dreadful use to which she would have put it. 

The natives spent a considerable time in securely binding 
their three captives, after which they bore them into the 
cavern. 

Here they kindled a torch, and held a long palaver as to 
what was to be done with the prisoners. Some counseled 
instant death, others advised that they should be kept as 
hostages. 

The debate was so long and fierce, that the day had be- 
gun to break before it was concluded. It was at length 
arranged that they should be conveyed alive to their village, 
there to be disposed of according to the instructions of their 
chiefs. 

Feeling that they had already delayed too long, they 
placed the prisoners on their shoulders, and bore them 
swiftly away. 

Poor Corrie and his sable friend were easily carried, 
coiled up like sacks, each on the shoulders of a stalwart 
savage; but Bumpus, who had required eight men to bind 
him, still remained unconvinced of his vincibility. He 
struggled so violently on the shoulders of the four men who 
bore him, that Keona, in a fit of passion, tinged no doubt 
with revenge, hit him such a blow on the head with the 
handle of an ax as caused his brains to sing, and a host of 
stars to dance before his eyes. 

These stars were, however, purely imaginary; for at that 
time the dawn had extinguished the lesser lights. Ere long, 
the bright beams of the rising sun suffused the eastern sky 
with a golden glow. On passing the place where Alice had 
been left, a couple of the party were sent by Keona to fetch 


GASCOYKE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADEK. 80 

her. They took the unnecessary precaution of binding the 
poor child, and speedily rejoined their comrades with her 
in their arms. 

The amazement of her friends on seeing Alice was only 
equaled by her surprise on beholding them. But the} 
were not permitted to communicate with each other. Pres- 
ently the whole party emerged from the wild mountain 
gorges, through which they had been passing for some 
time, and proceeded in single file along a narrow path that 
skirted the precipices of the coast. The cliffs here were 
nearly a hundred feet high. They descended sheer down 
into deep water; in some places even overhung the sea. 

Here John Bumpus, having recovered from the stunning 
effects of the blow dealt him by Keona, renewed his strug- 
gles, and rendered the passage of the place not only diffi- 
cult but dangerous — to himself as well as to his enemies. 
J ust as they reached a somewhat open space on the top of 
the cliffs, Jo succeeded, by almost superhuman exertion, 
in bursting his bonds. Keona, foaming with rage, gave 
an angry order to his followers, who rushed upon Bumpus 
in a body as he was endeavoring to clear himself of the 
cords. Although John struck out manfully, the savages 
were too quick for him. They raised him suddenly aloft in 
their aims, and hurled him headlong over the cliff! 

The horror of his friends on witnessing this may easily 
be imagined; but every other feeling was swallowed up in 
terror when the savages, apparently rendered blood-thirsty 
by what they had done, ran toward Alice, and, raising her 
from the ground, hastened to the edge of the cliff, evident- 
ly with the intention of throwing her over also. 

Before they had accomplished their fiendish purpose, 
however, a sound like thunder burst upon their ears and 
arrested their steps. This was immediately followed by 
another crash, and then came a series of single reports in 
rapid succession, which were multiplied by the echoes of 
the heights until the whole region seemed to tremble with 
the reverberation. 

At finst the natives seemed awe-stricken. Then, on be- 
coming aware that the sounds which originated all this 
tumult came from the direction of their own village, they 
dropped Alice on the ground, fled precipitately down the 
rugged 23ath that led from the heights to the valley, and 


90 


aASCOYKE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. 


disappeared, leaving tlie three captives, bound and help- 
less, on the cliffs. 


CHAPTER XII. 

DANGEROUS NAVIGATION AND DOUBTFUL PILOTAGE. — 
MONTAGUE IS HOT, GASCOYNE SARCASTIC. 

We now turn to the ‘‘ Talisman, which, it will be re- 
membered, we' left making her way slowly through the reefs 
toward the northern end of the island, under the pilotage 
of Gascoyne. 

The storm, which had threatened to burst over the island 
at an earlier period of that evening, passed off far to the 
south. The light breeze which had tempted Captain Mon- 
tague to weigh anchor soon died away, and before night a 
profound calm brooded over the deep. 

When the breeze fell, Gascoyne went forward, and, seat- 
ing himself on a forecastle carronade, appeared to fall into 
a deep reverie. Montague paced the quarter-deck im- 
patiently, glancing from time to time down the sky-light at 
the barometer which hung in the cabin, and at the vane 
which drooped motionless from the mast-head. He acted 
with the air of a man who was deeply dissatisfied with the 
existing state of things, and who felt inclined to take the 
laws of nature into his own hands. Fortunately for nature 
and himself, he was unable to do this. 

Ole Thorwald exhibited a striking contrast to the active, 
impatient commander of the vessel. That portly indi- 
vidual having just finished a cigar which the first lieuten- 
ant had presented to him on his arrival on board, threw the 
fag-end of it into the sea, and proceeded leisurely to fill a 
large-headed German pipe, which was the constant com- 
panion of his waking hours, and the bowl of which seldom 
enjoyed a cool moment. 

Ole, having filled the pipe, lighted it; then, leaning over 
the taffrail, he gazed placidly into the dark waters, which 
were so perfectly calm that every star in the vault above 
could be compared with its refiection in the abyss below. 

Ole Thorwald, excepting when engaged in actual battle, 
was phlegmatic, and constitutionally lazy and happy. 
When enjoying his German pipe he felt impressibly serene, 
and did not care to be disturbed. He therefore paid no 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TKADER. 91 

attention to the angry manner of Montague, who brushed 
past him repeatedly in his hasty perambulations, but con- 
tinued to gaze downward and smoke calmly in a state of 
placid felicity. 

“ You appear to take things coolly, Mister Thorwald,"^ 
said Montague, half in jest, yet with a touch of asperity in 
his manner. 

‘‘ I always do (pRfi) “ when the \^eather^s not warm.^^ 
(Puff, puff*.) 

‘‘ Humph ejaculated Montague; “but the weather is 
warm just now; at least it seems so to me — so warm that I 
should not be surprised if a thunder-squall were to burst 
upon us ere long.'^ 

“ Hot a pleasant place to be caught in a squall,^-’ re- 
turned the other, gazing through the \oluminous clouds of 
smoke which he emitted at several coral reefs, whose 
ragged edges just rose to the level of the calm sea without 
breaking its mirror-like surface; “ IVe seen one or two 
fine vessels calight that way, just hereabouts, and go right 
down in the middle of the breakers. 

Montague smiled, and the commander-in-chief of the 
Sandy Cove army fired innumerable broadsides from his 
mouth with redoubled energy. 

“ That is not a cheering piece of information,^^ said he, 
“ especially when one has reason to believe that a false 
man stands at the helm.^^ 

Montague uttered the latter part of his speech in a sub- 
dued, earnest voice, and the matter-of-fact Ole turned his 
eyes slowly toward the man at the wheel; but observing 
that he who presided there was a short, fat, commonplace, 
and uncommonly jolly-looking seaman, he merely uttered 
a grunt, and looked at Montague inquiringly. 

“ Hay; I mean not the man who actually holds the 
spokes of the wheel, but he who guides the ship. 

Thorwald glanced at Gascoyne, whose figure was dimly 
visible in the fore part of the ship, and then looking at 
Montague in surprise, shook his head gravely, as if to say, 
“ I^m still in the dark; go on."’^ 

“ Can Mr. Thorwald put out his pipe for a few minutes, 
and accompany me to the cabin? I would have a little con- 
verse on this matter in private. 

Ole hesitated. 

“ AYell, then/^ said the other, smiling, “ you may take 


92 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TKADER. 


the pipe with you, although it is against rules to smoke in 
my cabin; but I'll make an exception in your case. " 

Ole smiled, bowed, and thanking the captain for his court- 
esy, descended to the cabin along with him, and sat down 
on a sofa in the darkest corner of it. Here he smoked 
vehemently, while his companion, assuming rather a mys- 
terious air, said, in an under-tone: 

“You have heard,. of course, that the pirate Durward 
has been seen, or heard of, in these seas?" 

Ole nodded. 

“ Has it ever struck you that this Gascoyne, as he calls 
himself, knows more about the pirate than he chooses to 
tell?" 

“ Never," replied Ole. Indeed, nothing ever did strike 
the stout commander-in-chief of the forces. All new ideas 
came to him by slow degrees, and did not readily find ad- 
mission to his perceptive faculties. But when they did gain 
an entrance into his thick head, nothing was ever known to 
drive them out again. As he did not seem inclined to com- 
ment on the hint thrown out by his companion, Montague 
continued, in a still more impressive tone: 

“ What would you say if this Gascoyne himself turned 
out to be the pirate?" 

The idea being a simple one, and the proper course to 
follow being rather obvious. Ole replied, with unwonted 
promptitude: “ Put him in irons, of course, and hang him 
as soon as possible." 

Montague laughed. “ Truly that would be a vigorous 
way of proceeding; but as I have no proof of the truth of 
my suspicions, and as the man is my guest at present, as 
well as my pilot, it behooves me to act more cautiously." 

“ Not at all; by no means; you're quite wrong, captain 
(which is the natural result of being young; all young peo- 
ple go wro.ng more or less); it is clearly your duty to catch 
a pirate anyhow you can, as fast as you can, and kill him 
without delay. " 

Here the sanguinary Thorwald paused to draw and puff 
into vitality the pipe which was beginning to die down, and 
Montague asked: 

“ But how d'you know he is the pirate?"- 

“ Because you said so," replied his friend. 

“ Nay; I said that I suspected him to be Durward — noth- 
ing more." 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TEADEK. 93 

“ And what more would you have?"" cried Ole, whose 
calm spirit was ruffled with unusual violence at the thought 
of the hated Durward being actually within his reach. 
‘‘For my part, I conceive that you are justified in taking 
him up on suspicion, trying him in a formal way (just to 
save appearances) on suspicion, and hanging him at once 
on suspicion. Quite time enough to inquire into the mat- 
ter after the villain is comfortably sewed up in a hammock 
with a thirty-pound shot at his heels, and sent to the bot- 
tom of the sea for the sharks and the crabs to devour. 
Suspicion is nine points of the law in these regions. Captain 
Montague, and we never allow the tenth point to interfere 
with the course of justice one way or another. Hang him, 
or shoot him if you prefer it, at once; that is what I 
recommend."" 

Just as Thorwald concluded this amiable piece of advice, 
the deep, strong tones of Gascoyne"s voice were heard ad- 
dressing the first lieutenant. 

“You had better hoist your royals and skyscrapers, Mr. 
Mulroy; we shall have a light air off the land presently, 
and it will require all your canvas to carry the ship round 
the north point, so as to bring her guns to bear on the vil- 
lage of the savages. "" 

“ The distance seems to me very short,"" replied the 
lieutenant, “ and the ‘ Talisman" sails faster than you may 
suppose with a light wind."" 

‘ ‘ I doubt not the sailing qualities of your good ship, 
though I could name a small schooner that would beat 
them in light wind or storm.; but you forget that we have 
to land our stout ally Mr. Thorwald with his men at the 
Goat"s Pass, and that will compel us to lose time — too niuch 
of which has been lost already."" 

Without repty, the lieutenant turned on his heel, and 
gave the necessary orders to hoist the additional sails, 
while the captain hastened on deck, leaving Thorwald to 
finish his pipe in peace, and ruminate on the suspicions 
which had been raised in his mind. 

In less than half an hour the light wind which Gascoyne 
had predicted came off the land, first in a series of what 
sailors term “cat"s-paws,"’ and then in a steady breeze, 
which lasted several hours, and caused the vessel to slip 
rapidly through the still water. As he looked anxiously 
over the bow. Captain Montague felt that he had placed 


94 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TEADEK. 


himself completely in the power of the suspected skipper 
of the ‘‘ Foam;^'’ for coral reefs surrounded him on all sides, 
and many of them passed so close to the sliip^s side that he 
expected every moment to feel the shock that would wreck 
his vessel and his hopes at the same time. He blamed 
himself for trusting a man whom he supposed he had such 
good reason to doubt, but consoled himself by thrusting 
his hand into his bosom and grasping the handle of a 
pistol, with which, in the event of the ship striking, he had 
made up his mind to blow out Gascoyne^’s brains. 

About an hour later, the Talisman was hove-to otf the 
Goat^s Pass, and Ole Thorwald was landed with his party 
at the base of a clilf which rose sheer up from the sea Hke 
a wall. 

“ Are we to go up there inquired Ole, in a rueful 
tone of voice, as he surveyed a narrow chasm to which 
Gascoyne guided him. 

“ That is the way. It’s not so bad as it looks. When 
you get to the top, follow the little path that leads along 
the cliffs northward, and you will reach the brow of a hill 
from which the native village will be visible. Descend and 
attack it at once, if you find men to fight with; if not, 
take possession quietly. Mind you don’t take the wrong 
turn; it leads to places where a wild-cat would not venture 
even in daylight. If you attend to what I have said, you 
can’t go wrong. Good-night. Shove off. ” 

The oars splashed in the sea at the word, and Gascoyne 
returned to the ship, leaving Ole to lead his men up the 
Pass as best he might. 

It seemed as if the pilot had resolved 4o make sure of 
the destruction of the ship that night; for, not content 
with running her within a foot or two of innumerable reefs, 
he at last steered in so close to the shore that the beetling 
cliff's actually seemed to overhang the deck. When the sun 
rose, the breeze died away; but sufficient wind continued 
to fill the upper sails, and to urge the vessel gently onward 
for some time after the surface of the sea was calm. 

Montague endeavored to conceal and repress his anxiety 
as long as possible; but when at length a line of breakers 
without any apparent opening presented themselves right 
ahead, he went up to Gascoyne and said, in a stern under- 
tone: ^ 


GASCOTlfE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADEE. 


95 


‘‘ Are you aware that you forfeit your life if my vessel 
strikes?^^ 

“ I know it/^ replied Gascoyne, coolly throwing away 
the stump of his cigar, and lighting a fresh one; “ but I 
have no desire either to destroy your vessel or to lose my 
life; although, to say truth, I should have no objection, in 
otlier circumstances, to attempt the one and to risk the 
other. 

‘‘ Say you so?^^ said Montague, with a sharp glance at 
the countenance of the other, where, however,, he could 
perceive nothing but placid good humor; “ that speech 
sounds marvelously warlike, methinks, in the mouth of a 
sandal-wood trader. 

“Think you, then,^^ said Gascoyne, with a smile of 
contempt, “ that it is only your fire-eating men of war 
who experience bold impulses and heroic desires?^ ^ 

“ Nay; but traders are not wont to aspire to the honor 
of fighting the ships that are commissioned to protect 
them. 

“ Truly, if I had sought protection from the war-ships 
of the King of England, I must have sailed long and far to 
find it,^’’ returned Gascoyne. “It is no child fe play to 
navigate these seas, where blood-thirsty savages swarm in 
their canoes like locusts. Moreover, I sail, as I have told 
you before, in the China Seas, vvhere pirates are more com- 
mon than honest traders. What would you say if I were 
to take it into my head to protect myself 

“ That you were well able to do so, answered Mon- 
tague, with a smile; “ but when I examined the ‘ Foam,^ I 
found no arms save^a few cutlasses and rusty muskets that 
did not seem to have been in recent use.^^ 

“ A few bold men can defend themselves with any kind 
of weapons. My men are stout fellows, not used to fiinch 
at the sound of a round shot passing over their heads. 

The conversation was interrupted here by the ship 
rounding a point and suddenly opening up a view of a fine 
bay, at the head of which, embosomed in trees and dense 
underwood, stood the native village of which they were in 
search. 

Just in front of this village lay a small but high and 
thickly wooded island, which, as it were, filled up the head 
of the bay, sheltering it completely from the ocean, and 
making the part of the sea which washed the shores in 


96 


GASCOTN’E, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADER. 


front of the houses resemble a deep and broad canal. 
This strip of water was wide and deep enough to permit 
of a vessel of th'e largest size passing through it; but to 
any one approaching the place for the first time, there 
seemed to be no passage for any sort of craft larger than a 
native canoe. The island itself was high enough to conceal 
the Talisman completely from the natives until she was 
within half gunshot of the shore. 

Gascoyne still stood on the fore part of Ihe ship as she 
neared this spot, which was so beset with reefs and rocks 
that her escape seemed miraculous. 

“ I think we are near enough for the work that we have 
to do,^^ suggested Montague, in some anxiety. 

“Just about it, Mr. Montague,^ said Gascoyne, as he 
turned toward the helm and shouted, “ Port your helni.^^ 

“ Port it is,^’ answered the man at the wheel. 

“Steady.^' 

“ Back the topsails, Mr. Mulroy.^^ • 

The sails were backed at once, and the ship became 
motionless, with her broadside to the village. 

“ What are we to do now, Mr. Gascoyne?^’ inquired 
Montague, smiling in spite of himself at the strange posi- 
tion in which he found himself. 

“ Fire away at the village as hard as you can,^^ replied 
Gas'^oyne, returning the smile. 

“ What! do you really advise me to bombard a ’defense- 
less place, in which, as far as 1 can see, there are none but 
women and children?^ ^ 

“ Even so,^^ returned the other, carelessly. “ At the 
same time I would advise you to give it them with a blank 
cartridge. 

“ And to what purpose such waste of powder.^’^ inquired 
Montague. 

“ The furthering of the plans which I have been ap- 
pointed to carry out,^^ replied Gascoyne, somewhat stiffly, 
as he turned on his heel and walked away. 

The young captain reddened and bit his lip, as he gave 
the order to load the guns with blank cartridge, and made 
preparation to fire this harmless broadside on the village. 
The word to “ fire had barely crossed his lips when the 
rocks around seemed to tremble with the crash of a shot 
that came apparently from the other side of the island; for 
its smoke was visible, although the vessel that discharged 


GASCOYKE, THE SAHDAL-'VVOOD TRADER. 


97 


it was concealed behind the point. The “Talisman's"" 
broadside followed so quickly, that the two discharges were 
blended in one. 


CHAPTER XIIL 

DOmGS OH BOARD THE “ FOAM. "" 

The nature of this 2Dart of our story requires that we 
should turn back, repeatedly, in order to trace the move- 
ments of the different parties which co-operated with each 
other. 

While the warlike demonstrations we have described were 
being made by tlie British cruiser, the crew of the “ Foam "" 
were not idle. 

In consequence of the capture of Bumpus by the savages, 
Gascoyne's message was, of course, not delivered to Man- 
ton, and the first mate of the sandal- wood trader would 
have known nothing about the fight that raged on the 
other side of the island on the Sunday but for the three 
shots, fired by the first lieutenant of the “ Talisman," 
which decided the fate of the day. 

Being curious to know the cause of the firing, Manton 
climbed the mountains until he gained the dividing ridge 
— which, however, he did not succeed in doing till late in 
the afternoon, the way being rugged as well as long. 
Here he almost walked into the miist of a flying party of 
the beaten savages; but dropping suddenly behind a rock, 
he escaped their notice. The haste with which they ran, 
and the wounds visible on the persons of many of them, 
were sufficient to acquaint the mate of the “ Foam " " with the 
fact that a fight had taken place in which the savages had 
been beaten; and his knowledge of the state of affairs on 
the island enabled him to jump at once to the correct 
conclusion that the Christian village had been attacked. 

A Satanic smile jffayed on the countenance of the mate 
as he watched the savages until they were out of sight; 
then, quitting his tfface of concealment, he hurried back to 
the schooner, which he reached some time after nightfall. 

Immediately on gaining the deck he gave orders to haul 
the chain of the anchor short, to shake out the sails, and 
to make other ^^reparations to avail himself without delay 
of the light breeze off the land which his knowledge of the , 


98 GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TKADEE. 

weather and the locality taught him to look for before 
morning. 

While his orders were being executed, a boat came along- 
side with that part of the crew which had been sent ashore 
by Gascoyne to escape the eye of the British commander. 
It was in charge of the second mate — a short, but thick- 
set, and extremely powerful man, of the name of Scraggs 
— Avho walked up to his superior the moment he came on 
board, and, in a tone somewhat disrespectful, asked what 
was going to be done. 

‘‘Don't you see?" growled Manton; “we're getting 
ready to sail. " 

“ Of course I see that," retorted Scraggs, between whom 
and his superior officer there existed a feeling of Jealousy 
as well as of mutual antipathy, for reasons which will be 
seen hereafter; “ but I should like to know where we are 
going, and why we are going anywhere without the cap- 
tain. I suppose I am entitled to ask that much." 

“It's your business to obey orders," said Manton, 
angrily. ■ 

“ Not if they are in opposition to the captain's orders," 
replied Scraggs, firmly, but in a more respectful tone; for 
in proportion as he became more mutinous, he felt that he 
could afford to become more deferential. ‘ ‘ The captain's 
last orders to 5^11 were to remain where you are; I heard 
him give them, and I do not feel it my duty to disobey him 
at your bidding. You'll find, too, that the crew are of my 
way of thinking." 

Manton' s face flushed crimson, and for a moment, he 
felt inclined to seize a handspike and fell the refractory 
second mate therewith; but the looks of a few of the men 
who were standing by and had overheard the conversation 
convinced him that a violent course of procedure would do 
him injury. Swallowing his passion, therefore, as he best 
could, he said: 

“ Come, Mr. Scraggs, I did not expect that you would 
set a mutinous example to the men; and if it were not that 
you do so out of respect for the supposed orders of the cap- 
tain, I would put you in irons at once. " 

Scraggs smiled sarcastically at this threat, but made no 
reply, and the mate continued: 

“ The captain did indeed order me to remain where we 
are; but I have since discovered that the black dogs have 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. 99 

attacked the Christian settlement, as it is called, and you 
know as well as I do that Gascoyne would not let slip the 
chance to pitch into the undefended village of the niggers, 
and pay them otf for the mischief they have done to. us 
more than once. At any rate, I mean to go round and 
blown down their log huts with Long Tom; so you can go 
ashore if you doiiT like the work.^^ 

Manton knew well, when he made this allusion to mis- 
chief formerly done to the crew of the ‘‘ Foam,^^ that he 
touched a rankling sore in the breast of Scraggs, who in a 
skirmish with the natives some time before had lost an 
eye; and the idea of revenging himself on the defenseless 
women and children of his enemies was so congenial to the 
mind of the second mate, that his objections to act willingly 
under Manton’s orders were at once removed. 

Ha!^^ said he, commencing to pace to and fro on the 
quarter-deck with his superior officer, while the men made 
the necessary pijeparations for the intended assault, ‘‘ that 
alters the case, Mr. Manton. IdonT think, however, that 
Gascoyne would have taken advantage of the chance to 
give the brutes what they deserve; for I must say he does 
seem to be unaccountably chicken-hearted. Perhaps it's 
as well that he's out of the way. Do you happen to know 
where he is, or what he's doing?" 

“ Not I. No doubt he is playing some sly game with 
this British cruiser, and I dare say he may be lending a 
hand to the settlers; for he's got some strange interests to 
lo.ok after there, you know " (here both men laughed), 

and I shouldn't wonder if he was beforehand with us in 
pitching into the niggers. He is always ready enough to 
f ght in self-defense, though we can never get him screwed 
up to the assaulting point. " 

‘‘ Ay, we saw something of the fighting from the hill- 
tops; but as it is no business of ours, T brought the men 
down, in case they might be wanted aboard. " 

“ Quite right, Scraggs. You're a judicious fellow to 
send on a dangerous expedition. I'm not sure, however, 
that Gascoyne would thank you for leaving him to fight 
the savages alone. " 

Manton chuckled as he said this, and Scraggs grinned 
maliciously as he replied : 

'' Well, it can't exactly be said that I've left him, seeing 
that I have not been with him since we parted aboard of 


100 GASCOYKE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TKADER. 

this schooner; and as to his fightin^ the niggers alone, 
hasn^’t he got ever so many hundred Christian niggers to 
help him to lick the others?^^ 

“ True/^ said Manton, while a smile of contempt curled 
his lip. “ But here comes the breeze, and the sun wori^’t 
be long behind it. All the better for the work we\e got 
to do. Mind your helm there. Here, lads, take a pull at 
the topsail halyards; and some of you get the nightcap oft' 
Long Tom. I say, Mr. Scraggs, should we show them the 
red, by way of comforting their hearts 

Scraggs shook his head dubiously. “You forget the 
cruiser. She has eyes aboard, and may chance to set them 
on that same red; in which case it’s likely she would show 
us her teeth. ” 

“ And what then?” demanded Manton, “ are you also 
growing chicken-hearted? Besides,” he added, in a milder 
tone, “ the cruiser is quietly at anchor on the other side of 
the island, and there’s not a captain in tiie British navy 
who could take a pinnace, much less a ship, through the 
the reefs at the north end of the island without a pilot. ” 

“ Well,” returned Scraggs, carelessly, “do as you 
please. It’s all one to me. ” 

While the two officers were conversing, the active crew of 
the “ Foam ” were busily engaged in carrying out the orders 
of Manton; and the graceful schooner glided swiftly along the 
coast before the same breeze which urged the “ Talisman 
to the north end of the island. The former, having few 
reefs to avoid, approached her destination much more 
rapidly than the latter, and there is no doubt that she would 
have arrived first on the scene of action had not the height 
and form of the cliffs prevented the wind from filling her 
sails on two or three occasions. 

Meanwhile, in obedience to Manton ’s orders, a gi-eat and 
very peculiar change was effected in the outward aspect of 
the “ Fpam. ” To one unacquainted with the character of the 
schooner, the proceedings of her crew must have seemed 
unaccountable as well as surprising. The carpenter and 
his assistants were slung over the sides of the vessel, upon 
which they plied their screw-drivers for a considerable time 
with great energy, but, apparently, with very little result. 
In the course of a quarter of an hour, however, a long nar- 
row plank was loosened, which, when stripped off, dis- 
covered a narrow line of bright scarlet running quite round 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADEK. 101 

the vessel, a little more than a foot above the water-line. 
This having been accomplished, they next proceeded to the 
figurehead, and, unscrewing the white lady who smiled 
there, fixed in her place a hideous griffin'’s head, which, 
like the ribbon, was also bright scarlet. While these 
changes were being effected, others of the crew removed 
the boat that lay on the deck, bottom up between the 
masts, and uncovered a long brass pivot-gun, of the largest 
caliber, which shone in the saffron light of morning like a 
mass of burnished gold. This gun was kept scrupulously 
clean and neat in all its arrangements; the rammers, 
sponges, screws, and other apparatus belonging to it were 
neatly arranged beside it, and four or five of its enormous 
iron shot were piled under its muzzle. The traversing gear 
connected with it was well greased, and, in short, every- 
thing about the gun gave proof of the care that was be- 
stowed on it. 

But these were not the only alterations made in the 
mysterious schooner. Round both masts were piled a 
number of muskets, boarding-pikes, cutlasses, and pistols, 
all of which were perfectly clean and bright, and the nieii 
— fierce enough and warlike in their aspect at all times — 
had now rendered themselves doubly so by putting on broad 
belts with pistols therein, and tucking up their sleeves to 
the shoulders, thereby displaying their brawny arms as if 
they had dirty work before them. This strange metamor- 
phosis was finally completed, when Manton, with his own 
hands, ran up to the peak of the mainsail a bright scarlet 
flag with the single word ‘‘ Avenger on it in large 
black letters. 

During one of those lulls in the breeze to which we have 
referred, and while the smooth ocean glowed in the mellow 
light that ushered in the day, the attention of those on 
board the Avenger (as we shall call the double-faced 
schooner when under red colors) was attracted to one of 
the more distant cliffs, on the summit of which human 
beings appeared to be moving. 

“ Hand me that glass,’" said Manton to one of the men 
beside him. I shouldn’t wonder if the niggers were up 
to some mischief there. Ah! just so,” he exclaimed, 
atlj listing the telescope a little more correctly, and again 
applying it to his eye. “ They seem to be scuffling on the 
top of yonder precipice. Now there’s one fellow down; 


102 GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADER. 

but it’s so far off that I can’t make out clearly what they’re 
about. I say, Mr. Scraggs, get the other glass and take a 
squint at them; you are further sighted than I am.” 

‘‘ You’re right: they are killin’ one another up yonder,” 
observed Scraggs, surveying the group on the cliffs with 
calm indifference. 

“ Here comes the breeze,” exclaimed Man ton, with a 
look of satisfaction. Now, look alive, lads; we shall be 
close on the nigger village in five minutes: it’s just round 
the point of tliis small island close ahead. Come, Mr. 
Scraggs, we’ve other business on hand just now than 
squinting at the scrimmages of these fellows. ” 

“ Hold on,” cried Scraggs, with a grin; I do believe 
they’re going to pitch a fellow over that cliff. What a 
crack he’ll come down into the water with, to be sure. 
It’s to be hoped the poor man is dead, for his own sake, 
before he takes that flight. Hallo!” added Scraggs, with 
an energetic shout and a look of surprise; I say, that’s 
one of men; I know him by his striped flannel shirt. 
If he would only give up kicking for a second, I’d make 
out his — Humph! it’s all up with him now, poor fellow, 
whoever he is. ” 

. As he said the last words, the figure of a man was seen 
to shoot out from the cliff, and, descending with ever-in- 
creasing rapidity, to strike the water with terrific violence, 
sending up a jet of white foam as it disappeared. 

Stand by to lower the gig,” shouted Manton. 

“Ay, ay, sir,” was the hearty response of the men, as 
some of them sprung to obey. 

“ Lower away!” 

The boat struck water, and its crew were on the thwarts 
in a moment. At the same time the point of the island 
was passed, and the native village opened up to view. 

“Load Long Tom — double shot!” roared Manton, 
whose ire was raised not so much at the idea of a fellow- 
creature having been so barbarously murdered as at the 
notion of one of the crew of his schooner having been so 
treated by contemptible niggers. “ Away, lads, and nick 
up that man.” 

“It’s of no use,” remonstrated Scraggs; “ he’s done for 
by this time. ” 

“ I know it,” said, Manton, with a fierce oath; “ bring 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADEK. 


103 


him in, dead or alive. If the sharks leave an inch of him, 
bring it to me. 1^11 make the black villains eat it raw.^^ 

This ferocious threat was interlarded with and followed 
by a series of terrible oaths, which we think it inadvisable 
to repeat. 

“ Starboard he shouted to the man at the helm, as 
soon as the boat shot away on its mission of mercy. 

Starboard it is. 

Steadyl^^ 

"W^hile he gave these orders, Man ton sighted the brass 
gun carefully, and, just as the schooner^s head came up to 
the wind, he applied the match. 

Instantly a cloud of smoke obscured the center of the 
little vessel, as if her powder magazine had blown up, and 
a deafening roar went ringing and reverberating from cliff 
to cliff as two of the great iron shot were sent groaning 
through the air and pitched right into the heart of the 
village. 

It was this tremendous shot from Long Tom, followed 
almost instantaneously by the broadside of the Talisman, 
that saved the life of Alice — possibly the lives of her young 
companions also; that struck terror to the hearts of the 
savages, causing them to converge toward their defenseless 
homes from all directions, and that apprised Ole Thorwald 
and Henry Stuart that the assault on the village had com- 
menced in earnest. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

GREATER MYSTERIES THAN EVER. — A BOLD MOVE AND A 
NARROW ESCAPE. 

We return now to the “ Talisman. 

The instant the broadside of the cruiser burst with such 
violence, and in such close proximity, on Manton^s ears, 
he felt that he had run into the very jaws of the lion; and 
that escape was almost impossible. The bold heart of the 
pirate quailed at the thought of his impending fate, but the 
- fear caused by conscious guilt was momentary: his consti- 
tutional courage returned so violently as to render him 
reckless. 

It was too late to put about and avoid being seen; for, 
before the shot was fired, the schooner had already almost 


104 GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOH TRADER. 

run into the narrow channel between the island and the 
shore. A few seconds later, she sailed gracefully into view 
of the amazed Montague, who at once recognized the pirate 
vessel from Gascoyne^s faithful description of her, and 
hurriedly gave orders to load with ball and grape, while a 
boat was lowered in order to slew the ship more rapidly so 
as to bring her broadside to bear on the schooner. 

To say that Gascoyne beheld all this unmoved would be 
to give a false impression of the man. He knew the ring 
of his great gun too well to require the schooner to come 
in sight in order to convince him that his vessel was near 
at hand. When, therefore, she appeared, and Montague 
turned to him with a hasty glance of suspicion and pointed 
to her, he had completely banished every trace of feeling 
from his countenance, and sat on the talfrail puffing his 
cigar with an air of calm satisfaction. Nodding to Mon- 
tague’s glance of inquiry, he said: 

Ay, that’s the pirate. I told you he was a bold fellow; 
but I did not think he was quite so bold as to attemi^t 
thisr 

To do Gascoyne justice, -he told the plain truth here; 
for, having sent a peremptory order to his mate, by John 
Bump us, not. to move from his anchorage on any account 
whatever, he was not a little surprised as well as enraged 
at what he supposed was Manton’s mutinous conduct. 
But, as we have said, his feelings were confined to his 
breast; they found no index in his grave face. 

Montague suspected, nevertheless, that his pilot was 
assuming a composure which he did not feel; for from the 
manner of the meeting of the two vessels, he was persuaded 
that it was as little expected on the part of the pirates as 
of himself. It was with a feeling of curiosity, therefore, as 
to what reply he should receive, that he put the question. 

What would Mr. Gascoyne advise me to do now P” 

Blow the villains out of the water,” was the quick 
answer. I would have done so before now, had I been 
you.” 

“Perhaps you might, but not 7nuch sooner,” retorted 
the other, pointing to the guns which were ready loaded, 
while the men stood at their stations, matches in hand, 
only waiting for the broadside to be brought to bear on the 
little, vessel, when an iron shower would be sent against her 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TKADEE. 105 

wliich must, at such short range, have infallibly sent her 
to the bottom. 

The mate of the pirate schooner was quite alive to his 
danger, and had taken the only means in his power to pre- 
vent it. Close to where his vessel lay, a large rock rose be- 
tween the shore of the large island and the islet in the bay 
which has been described as separating the two vessels from 
each other. Owing to the formation of the coast at this 
place, a powerful stream ran between the rock and this 
islet at low tide. It happened to be flowing out at that 
time like a mill-race. Manton saw that the schooner was 
being sucked into this stream. In other circumstances, he 
would have endeavored to avoid the danger; for the chan- 
nel was barely wide enough to allow even a small craft to 
pass between the rocks; but now he resolved to risk it. • 

He knew that any attempt to put the schooner about 
would only hasten the efforts of the cruiser to bring her 
broadside to bear on him. He also knew that, in the 
course of a few seconds, he would be carried through the 
stream into the shelter of the rocky point. He therefore 
ordered the men to he down on the deck; while, in a care- 
less manner, he slewed the big brass gun round, so as to 
point it at the man-of-war. 

Gascoyne at once understood the intended maneuver of 
his mate; and, in spite of himself, a gleam of triumph 
shot from his eyes. Montague himself suspected that his 
prize was not altogether so sure as he had deemed it; and 
ne urged the men in the boat to put forth their utmost 
efforts. The ‘‘ Talisman was almost slewed into posi- 
tion, when the pirate schooner was observed to move rapidly 
through the water, stern foremost, in the direction of the 
point. At first Montague could scarcely credit his eyes; 
but when he saw the end of the main boom pass behind the 
point, he became painfully alive to the fact that the whole 
vessel would certainly follow in the course of a few seconds. 
Although the most of his guns were still not sufficiently 
well pointed, he gave the order to fire them in succession. 
The entire broadside burst in this manner from the side of 
the “ Talisman,^-’ with a prolonged and mighty crash or 
roar, and tore up the waters of the narrow channel. 

Most of the iron storm passed close by the head of the 
pirate. However, only one ball took effect; it touched the 
end of the bowsprit, and sent the jib-boom into the air in 


106 GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. 

splinters. Manton applied the match to the brass gun 
almost at the same moment, and the heavy ringing roar of 
her explosion seemed like a prolonged echo of the broad- 
side. The gun was well aimed; but the schooner had 
already passed so far behind the point that the ball struck 
a projecting part .of the cliff, dashed it into atoms, and, 
glancing upward, passed through the cap of the Talis- 
man’s mizzen-mast, and brought the lower yard, with all 
its gear, rattling down upon the quarter-deck. When the 
smoke cleared away, the Avenger had vanished from 
the scene. 

To put the ship about, and follow the pirate schooner, 
was the first impulse of Montague; but, on second thought, 
he felt that the risk of getting on the rocks in the narrow 
channel was too great to be lightly run. He therefore 
gave orders to warp the ship about, and steer round the 
islet, on the other side of which he fully expected to find 
the pirate. But time was lost in attempting to do this, in 
consequence of the wreck of the mizzen-mast having fouled 
the rudder. When the “ Talisman at last got under 
way, and rounded the outside point of the islet, no vessel 
of any kind was to be seen. 

Amazed beyond measure, and deeply chagrined, the un- 
fortunate captain of the man-of-war turned to Gasco 3 me, 
who still sat quietly on the taffrail smoking his cigar. 

‘‘ Does this pirate schooner sport wings as well as sails 
said he; ‘‘for unless she does, and has flown over the 
mountains, I can not see how she could disappear in so 
short a space of time. 

“ I told you the pirate was a bold man; and now he has 
proved himself a clever fellow. Whether he sports wings 
or no is best known to himself. Perhaps he can dive. If 
so, we have only to watch until he comes to the surface, 
and shoot him leisurely.” 

“Well, he is off; there is no doubt of that,” returned 
Montague. “ And now, Mr. Gascoyne, since it is vain to 
chase a vessel possessed of such mysterious qualities, you 
will not object, 1 dare say, to guide my ship to the bay 
where your own little schooner lies. I have a fancy to anchor 
there.” 

“ By all means,” said Gascoyne, coolly. “ It will 
afford me much pleasure to do as you wish, and to have 
you alongside of my little craft. ” 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. 107 

Montague was surprised at the perfect coolness with 
which the other received this proposal. He was persuaded 
that there must be some mysterious connection between the 
pirate schooner and the sandal-wood trader, although his 
ideas were at this point somewhat undefined and confused; 
and he had expected that Gascoyne would have shown some 
symptoms of perplexity, on being thus ordered to conduct 
the ‘‘Talisman^'’ to a spot where, he suspected, no 
schooner would be found, or, if found, would appear under 
such a changed aspect as to warrant his seizing it on suspi- 
cion. As Gascoyne, however, showed perfect willingness 
to obey the order, he turned away, and left his strange 
pilot to conduct the ship through. the reefs, having pre- 
viously given him to understand that the touching- of a 
rock and the termination of his (Gascoyne^s) life would 
certainly be simultaneous events. 

Meanwhile the ‘‘Avenger,^^ alias the ^‘Foam,^^ had 
steered direct for the shore, into which she apparently ran, 
and disappeared like a phantom-ship. The coast of this part 
of the island, where the events we are narrating occurred, 
was peculiarly formed. There were several narrow inlets 
in the high cliffs which were exceedingly deep, but barely 
wide enough to admit of the passage of a large boat, or a 
small vessel. Many of these inlets or creeks, which in 
some respects resembled the narrow fiords of Norway, 
though on a miniature scale, were so thickly fringed with 
trees, and the luxuriant undergrowth peculiar to southern 
climes, that their existence could not be detected from the 
sea. Indeed, even after the entrance to any one of them 
was discovered, no one would have imagined it to extend so 
far inland. 

Two of those deep, narrow inlets, opening from opposite 
sides of the cape which lay close to the islet above referred 
to, had approached so close to each other at their upper 
extremities, that they had at last met, in consequence of 
the sea undermining and throwing down the cliff that 
separated them. Thus the cape was in reality an island; 
and the two united inlets formed a narrow strait, through 
which the “ Avenger passed to her former anchorage by 
means of four pair of powerful sweeps or oars. This 
secret passage was well known to the pirates; and it was 
with a lurking feeling that it might some day prove of use 


108 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. 


to him, that Gascoyne invariably anchored near it when he 
visited the island as a sandal-wood trader. 

During the transit, the carpenters of the schooner were 
not idle. The red streak and flag and griffin^s head were 
removed; the big gun was covered with the long boat, and 
the vessel which entered the one end of the channel as the 
warlike Avenger, issued from the other side as the 
peaceful ‘‘Foam;^" and, rowing to her former anchor- 
age, dropped anchor. 

The shattered jib-boom had been replaced by a spare one, 
and part of the crew were stowed away under the cargo, in 
an empty space of the hold reserved for this special pur- 
pose, and for co;icealing arms. A few of them were also 
landed, not far from the cliff over which poor Bumpus had 
been thrown, with orders to remain concealed, and be 
ready to embark at a mementos notice. 

Soon after the schooner anchored, the boat which had 
been sent off in search of the body of our unfortunate sea- 
man returned, having failed to discover the object for 
which it had been sent out. . 

The breeze had by this time died away almost entirely, 
so that three hours elapsed before the ‘‘ Talisman round- 
ed the point, stood into the bay, and dropped anchor at a 
distance of about two miles from the suspected schooner. 


CHAPTER XV. 

REMARKABLE DOINGS OF POOPY. — EXTRAORDINARY CASE 
OF RESUSCITATION. 

It is time now to return to our unfortunate friends, Cor- 
rie, Alice, and Poopy, who had been left long enough ex- 
posed on the summit of the cliff, from which they had ex- 
pected to be tossed by the savages, when the guns of the 
“ Talisman so opportunely -saved them. 

The reader will observe that these incidents, Which have 
taken so long to narrate, were enacted in a very brief space 
of time. Only a few hours elapsed between the flring of 
the broadside already referred to and the anchoring of the 

Talisman in the bay, where the “ Foam had cast 
anchor some time before her; yet in this short space of 
time many things occurred on the island which are worthy 
of particular notice. 


GASCOYKE, THE SAKDAL-WOOD TBADER. 109 

As we have already remarked, Corrie and his two com- 
panions in misfortune had been bound, and in this condi- 
tion were left by the savages to their fate. Their respect- 
ive positions were by no means enviable. Poor Alice lay 
near the edge of the cliff, with her wrists and ankles so 
securely tied that no effort of which she was capable could 
set her free. Poopy lay about ten yards further up the cliff, 
flat on her sable back, with her hands tied behind her, and 
her ankles also secured; so that she could by no means at- 
tain a sitting position, although she made violent and ex- 
traordinary efforts to do so. We say extraordinary, because 
Poopy, being ingenious, hit upon many devices of an un- 
heard-of nature to accomplish her object. Among others, 
she attempted to turn heels over head, hoping thus to get 
upon her knees; and there is no doubt whatever that she 
would have succeeded in this had not the formation of the 
ground been exceedingly unfavorable for such a maneuver. 

Corrie had shown such an amount of desperate vindic- 
tiveness, in the way of kicking, hitting, biting, scratching, 
and pinching, when the savages were securing him, that 
they gave him five or six extra coils of the rope of cocoa-nut 
fiber with which they bound him. Consequently he could 
not move any of his limbs; and now he lay on his side be- 
tween Alice and Poopy, gazing with much earnestness and 
no little astonishment at the pecuhar contortions of the lat- 
ter. 

‘‘Youfil never manage it, Poopy,'" he remarked, in a 
sad tone of voice, on beholding the poor girl balanced on 
the small of her back, preparatory to making a spring that 
might have reminded one of the leaps of a trout when 
thrown from its native element upon the bank of a river. 

And youTl break your neck if you go on like that," he 
added, on observing that, having failed in these attempts, 
she recurred to the heels-over-head process; but all in vain. 

‘‘ Oh me!" sighed Poopy, as she fell back in a fit of ex- 
haustion. “ It's be all hup wid us. 

‘‘ Don't say that, you goose," whispered Corrie; “ you'll 
frighten Alice, you will. " 

AYill me?" whispered Poopy, in a tone of self-reproach; 
then in a loud voice, oh, no! it's not all hup yet, Miss 
Alice. See, me go at it again. " 

And go at it " she did in a wa^ that actually alarmed 
her companions. At any other time Corrie would have 


110 GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. 

exploded with laughter, but the poor boy was thoroughly 
overwhelmed by the suddenness and the extent of his mis- 
fortune. The image of Bumpus, disappearing headlong 
over that terrible clilf, had filled his heart with a feeling of 
horror which nothing could allay, and grave thoughts at 
the desperate case of poor little Alice (for he neither 
thought of nor cared for Poopy or himself) sunk like a 
weight of lead upon his spirits. 

Don’t try it any more, dear Poopy,” said Alice, en- 
treatingly; “ youTl only hurt yourself and tear your frock. 
I feel sure that some one will be sent to deliver us. Don’t 
you, Corrie?” 

The tone in which this question was put showed that the 
poor child did not feel quite so certain of the arrival of 
succor as her words implied. Corrie perceived this at once, 
and, with the heroism of a true lover, he crushed back the 
feelings of anxiety and alarm which were creeping over his 
own stout little heart in spite of his brave wonis, and gave 
utterance to encouraging expressions and even to slightly 
jovial sentiments, which tended veiy much to comfort 
Alice, and Poopy too. 

Sure?” he exclaimed, rolling on his other side to ob- 
tain a view of the child (for, owing to his position and his 
fettered condition he had to turn on his right side when he 
wished to look at Poopy, and on his left when he addressed 
himself to Alice). ‘‘ Sure? why, of course I’m sure. D’ye 
think your father would leave you lying out in the cold all 
night?” 

“ No, that I am certain he would not,” cried Alice, en- 
thusiastically; “ but, then, he does not know we are here, 
and will never think of looking for us in such an unlikely 
place. ” - 

Humph! that only shows your ignorance,” said Corrie. 

Well, I dare say I am very ignorant,” replied Alice, 
meekly. 

No, no! I don’t mean that” cried Corrie, with a feel- 
ing of self-reproach. I don’t mean to say that you’re 
ignorant in a general way, you know, but only about what 
men are likely to do, d’ye see, when they’re hard put to 
it, you understand. Our feelings are so different from 
yours, you know, and — and — ” 

Here Corrie broke down, and in order to change the sub- 


GASCOYKE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. 


Ill 


ject abruptly he rolled round toward Poopy, and cried, 
with considerable asperity: 

‘‘ What on earth d^ye mean, Kickup, by wriggling about 
your black body in that fashion? If you don't stop it 
you'll fetch way down the hill, and go slap over the preci- 
pice, carrying Alice and me along with you. Give it u]? 
now; d’ye hear?" 

No, me won't," cried Poopy, with great passion, while 
tears sprung from her large eays, and coursed over her 
sable cheeks. “ Me will bu'st dem ropes." 

More likely to do that to yourself if you go on like 
that," returned Corrie. “ But I say, Alice, cheer up " 
(here he rolled round on his other side); “I've been pon- 
dering a plan all this time to set us free, and now I'm going 
to try it. The only bother about it is that these rascally 
savages have dropped me beside a pool of half-soft mud 
that I can't help sticking my head into if I try to move." 

“ Oh! then, don't move, dear Corrie," said Alice, in an 
imploring tone of voice; “ we can lie here quite comfort- 
ably till papa comes. " 

“ Ah! yes," said Corrie, “ that rehiinds me that I was 
saying we men feel and act so differently from you women. 
Now it strikes me that your father will go to the most un~ 
likeh 
gers 
time 
ing 

search), “ I shall tell you my plan, and then try to carry 
it out. " (Here he sighed again, more deeply than before; 
not feeling by any means confident of the success of his own 
efforts. ) 

“ And what is your plan?" inquired Alice, eagerly; for 
the child had unbounded belief in Corrie 's ability to do 
almost anything he chose to attempt, and Corrie knew 
this, and was proud as a peacock in consequence. 

“ I'll get up on my knees," said he, “ and then, once 
on them, I can easily rise to my feet and hop to you, and 
free you. " 

On this explanation of his elaborate and difficult plan 
Alice made no observation for some time, because, even to 
her faculties (which were obtuse enough on mechanical 
matters), it was abundantly evident that, the boy's hands 


parts of the island first, knowin very well that riig 
don't hide in likely places. But as it may be a long 
before he finds us " (he sighed deeply here, not feel- 
much confidence in the success of the missionary's 


112 


GASCOYKE, THE SAHDAL-WOOD TRADEE. 


being tied firmly behind his back, he could neither cut the 
ropes that bound her, nor untie them. 

“ What d^ye think, Alice 
I fear it won^’t do; your hands are tied, Corrie.^^ 

‘‘Oh! that^s nothing. The only difficulty is how to get 
on my knees. 

“ Surely that can not be very difficult, when you talk of 
getting on your feet. 

“ Ha! that shows youTe a — I mean, d^ye see, that the 
difficulty lies here; my elbows are lashed so fast to my side 
that I canT use them to prop me up; but if Poopy will 
roll down the hill to my side, and shove her pretty shoulder 
under my back when I raise it, perhaps I may succeed in 
getting up. What say you, Kickup?^^ 

“ Hee! Hee!^^ laughed the girl, “ daPs fuss rate. 
Look out!"’"’ 

Poopy, although sluggish by nature, was rather abrupt 
and violent in her impulses at times. Without further 
warning than the above brief exclamation, she rolled her- 
self toward Oorrie with such good-wdll that she went quite 
over him, and would certainly have passed onward to where 
Alice lay — perhaps over the cliff altogether — had not the 
boy caught her sleeve with his teeth, and held her fast. 

The plan was eminently successful. By a series of jerks 
on the part of Corrie, and proppings on tne part of Poopy, 
the former was enabled to attain a kneeling position, not, 
however, without a few failures, in one of which he fell for- 
ward on his face, and left a deep impression of his fat little 
nose in the mud. 

Having risen to his feet, Corrie at once hopped toward 
Alice, after the fashion of those country wights who in- 
dulge in sack-races, and, going down on his knees beside 
her, began diligently to gnaw the rope that bound her with 
his teeth. This was by no means an easy or a quick proc- 
ess. He gnawed and bit at it long before the tough rope 
gave way. At length Alice was freed, and she immediately 
set to work to undo the fastenings of the other two; but 
her delicate fingers were not well suited to such rough 
work, and a considerable time elapsed before the three were 
finally at large. 

The instant they were so, Oorrie said, “ Now we must 
go down to the foot of the cliff, and look for poor Bumpus. 
Oh, dear me! I doubt he is killed. ” 


GASCOYKE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TKADER. 


113 


The look of horror which all three cast over the stupen- 
dous precipice showed that they had little hope of ever again 
seeing their rugged friend alive. But, without wasting 
time in idle remarks, they at once hastened to the foot of 
the cliif by the shortest route they could find. Here, after 
a short time, they discovered the object of their solicitude 
l}fing, apparently dead, on his back among the rocks. 

When Bumpus struck the water, after being tossed over 
the cliff, his head was fortunately downward; and his skull 
being the thickest and hardest bone in his body, had with- 
stood the terrible shock to which it had. been subjected 
without damage, though the brain within was, for a time, 
incapacitated from doing duty. When John rose again to 
the surface, after a descent into unfathomable water, he 
floated there in a state of insensibility. Fortunately the 
wind and tide combined to wash him to the shore, where a 
higher swell than usual launched him among the coral 
rocks, and left him there, with only his feet in the water. 

Oh! -here he is — hurrah shouted Oorrie, on catching 
sight of the prostrate form of the seaman. But the boy’s 
manner changed the instant he observed the color of the 
man'^s face, from which all the blood had been driven, 
leaving it like a piece of brown leather. 

He^’s dead,'’^ said Alice, wringing her hands in despair. 

P’r^aps not,^^ suggested Poopy, with a look of deep 
wisdom, as she gazed on the upturned face. 

‘‘Anyhow, we must haul him out of the water, said 
Corrie, whose chest heaved with the effort he made to re- 
press his tears. 

Catching up one of Bumpus^ s huge hands, the boy or- 
dered Alice to grasp the other. Poopy, without waiting for 
orders, seized hold of the hair of his head, and all three 
began to haul with might and main. But they might as 
well have tried to pull a line-of-battle ship up on the shore. 
The many’s bulky form was immovable. Seeing this, they 
changed their plan, and, all three grasping his legs, slewed 
him partially round, and thus drew his feet out of the 
water. 

“ Now we must warm him,^^ said Oorrie, eagerly; for, 
the first shock of the discovery of the supposed dead body 
of his friend being over, the sanguine boy began to enter- 
tain hopes of resuscitating him. “ I^’ve heard that the 
best thing for drowned people is to warm them: so, Alice, 


114 GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. 

do you take one hand and arm, Poopy will take the other, 
and I will take his feet, and we'll all rub away till we bring 
him to; for we must, we shall bring him round. " 

Oorrie said this with a fierce look and a hysterical sob. 
Without more words he drew out his clasp-knife, and, rip- 
l^ing up the cuffs of the man's coat, laid bare his muscular 
arm. Meanwhile Alice untied his neckcloth, and Poopy 
' tore open his Guernsey frock and exposed his broad, brown 
chest. 

“ We must warm that at once," said Oorrie, beginning 
to take off his jacket, wliich he meant to sj^read over the 
seaman's breast. 

‘‘Stay! my petticoat is warmer," cried Alice, hastily 
divesting herself of a flannel garment of bright scarlet, the 
brilliant beauty of which had long been the admiration of 
the entire population of Sandy Cove. The child spread it 
over the seaman's chest, and tucked it carefully down at 
his sides, between his body and the wet garments. Then 
the three sat down beside him, and, each seizing a limb, 
began to rub and chafe with a degree of energy that noth- 
ing could resist. At any rate it put life into John Bumpus; 
for that hardy mariner gradually began to exhibit signs of 
returning vitality. 

“ There he comes!" cried Oorrie, eagerly. 

“ Eh!" exclaimed Poopy, in alarm. 

“ Who? where?" inquired Alice, who thought that the 
boy referred to some one who had unexpectedly appeared 
on the scene. 

“ I saw him wink with his left eye — look!" 

All three suspended their labor of love, and, stretching 
forward their heads, gazed, with breathless anxiety, at the 
clay-colored face of Jo. 

“ I must have been mistaken," said Oorrie, shaking his 
head. 

“ Go at him ag'in," cried Poopy, recommencing her work 
on the right arm with so much energy that it seemed mar- 
velous how she escaped skinning that limb from fingers to 
shoulder. 

Poor Alice did her best, but her soft little hands had not 
much effect on the huge mass of brown flesh they manipu- 
lated. 

“ There he comes again!" shouted Oorrie. 

Once more there was an abrupt pause in the jDrocess, and 


GASCOYN'E, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. 115 

the three heads were bent eagerly forward watching for 
symptoms of returning life. Corrie was right. The sea- 
mane’s left eye quivered for a moment, causing the hearts 
of the three children to beat high with hope. Presently 
the other eye also quivered; then the broad chest rose 
almost imperceptibly, and a faint sigh came feebly and 
broken from the cold blue lips. 

To say that the three children were delighted at this 
would be to give but a feeble idea of the state of their feeh 
ings. Corrie had, even in the short time yet afforded him 
of knowing Bumpus, entertained for him feelings of the 
deepest admiration and love. Alice and Poopy, out of 
sheer sympathy, had fallen in love with him too, at first 
sight; so that his horrible death (as they had supposed), 
coupled with his unexpected restoration and revival through 
their united exertions, drew them still closer to him, and 
created within them a sort of feeling that he must, in 
common reason and justice, regard himself as their special 
property in all future time. When, therefore, they saw 
him Avink, and heard him sigh, the gush of emotion that 
filled their respective bosoms Avas quite overpowering. 
Corrie gasped in his effort not to break down ; Alice Avept 
with silent joy as she continued to chafe the man^s limbs; 
and Poopy went off into a violent fit of hysterical laughter, 
in which her hee, hees resounded with terrible shrillness 
among the surrounding cliffs. 

Now, then, let^s to work again with a will,^^ said Cor- 
rie. What d^ye say to try punching him?'’^ 

This question he put gravely, and with the uncertain air 
of a man who feels that he is treading on new and possibly 
dangerous ground. 

“ What is punching inquired Alice. 

Why, that,” replied the boy, giving a practical and by 
no means gentle illustration on his own fat thigh. 

‘‘ WouldnT it hurt him?’^ said Alice, dubiously. 

‘‘Hurt him! hurt the Grampus!’^ cried Corrie, Avith a 
look of surprise; “ you might as well talk of hurting a hip- 
popotamus. Come, ITl try."’’’ 

Accordingly, Corrie tried. He began to bake the sea- 
man, as it Avere, with his fists. As the process Avent on he 
Avarmed to the work, and did it so energetically, in his 
mingled anxiety and hope, that it assumed the character of 
hitting rather than punching — to the dismay of Alice, who 


116 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TEADER. 


thought it impossible that any human being could stand 
such dreadful treatment. 

Whether it was owing to this process, or to the action of 
nature, or to the combined efforts of nature and his friends, 
that Bumpus owed his recovery, we can not pretend to say; 
but certain it is, that, on Corrie’s making a severer dab 
than usual into the pit of the seaman ^s stomach, he gave a 
gasp and a sneeze, the latter of which almost overturned 
Poopy, who chanced to be gazing wildly into his counte- 
nance at the moment. At the same time he involuntarily 
threw up his right arm, and fetched Corrie such a tremen- 
dous back-hander on the chest that our young hero was laid 
flat on his back, half stunned by the violence of the fall, 
yet shouting with delight that his rugged friend still lived 
to strike another blow. 

Having achieved this easy though uninteiitional victory, 
Bumpus sighed again, shook his legs in the air, and sat up, 
gazing before him with a bewildered air, and gasping from 
time k) time in a quiet way. 

“ AVot^s to do?’^ were the first words with which the re- 
stored seaman greeted his friends. 

Hurrah!^' screamed Corrie, his visage blazing with 
delight, as he danced in front of him. 

“ Werry good,""^ said Bumpus, whose intellect was not 
yet thoroughly restored ; ‘‘ try it again. 

“ Oh, how cold your cheeks are!^^ said Alice, placing 
her hands on them, and chafing them gently; then, per- 
ceiving that she did not communicate much warmth in that 
way, she placed her own fair, soft cheek against that of the 
sailor. Suddenly throwing both arms round his neck, she 
hugged him, and burst into tears. 

Bumpus was somewhat taken aback by this unexpected 
explosion; but, being an affectionate man as well as a 
rugged one, he had no objection whatever to the peculiar 
treatment. He allowed the child to sob on his neck as long 
as she chose, while Corrie stood by, with his hands in his 
pockets, sailor-fashion, and looked on admiringly. As for 
Poopy, she sat down on a rock a short way off, and began 
to smile and talk to herself in a manner so utterly idiotical 
that an ignorant observer would certainly have judged her 
to be insane. 

They were thus agreeably employed, when an event oc- 
curred which changed the current of their thoughts, and 


GASCOYN'E, THE SAHDAL-WOOD TRADER. 


117 


led to consequences of a somewhat serious nature. The 
event, however, was in itself insignificant. It was nothing 
more than the sudden appearance of a wild pig among the 
bushes close at hand. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

A WILD CHASE. — HOPE, DISAPPOIHTMEHT, AHD DESPAlh. — 
THE SAHDAL-W'OOD TRADER OUTWITS THE MAH-OF-WAR. 

Wheh the wild pi^, referred to in the last chapter, was 
first observed, it was standing on the margin of a thicket, 
from which it had just issued, gazing, with the profoundly 
philosophical aspect peculiar to that animal, at our four 
friends, and seeming to entertain doubts as to the propri- 
ety of beating an immediate retreat. 

Before it had made up its mind on this point, Corrie^s 
eye alighted on it. 

Hist!^'’ exclaimed he, with a gesture of caution to his 
companions. ‘^Look there! WeVe had nothing to eat 
for an awful time — nothing since breakfast on Sunday 
morning. I feel as if my interior had been amputated. 
Oh, what a jolly roast that fellow would make if we could 
only kill him!’'’ 

“ Wot’s in the pistol?” inquired Bumpus, pointing to 
the weapon which Corrie had stuck ostentatiously into his 
belt. 

“ Nothin’,” answered the boy. “ I fired the last charge 
into the face of a savage. ” 

‘‘ Fling it at him,” suggested Bumpus, getting cautious- 
ly up. “ Here, hand it to me. I’ve seed a heavy horse- 
pistol like that do great execution when well aimed by a 
stout arm.” 

The pig seemed to have an intuitive perception that dan- 
ger was approaching; for it turned abruptly round just as 
the missile left the seaman’s hand, and received the butt 
with full force close to the root of its tail. 

A pig’s tendency to shriek on the receipt of the slightest 
injury is well known. It is therefore not to be wondered 
at that this pig went off into the bushes under co\er of a 
- series of yells so terrific they might have been heard for 
miles around. 

“ I’ll after him,” cried Bumpus, catching up a large 


118 GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADER. 

stone, and leaping forward a few paces almost as actively 
as if nothing had happened to him. 

“ Hurrah!^^ shouted Corrie; “ I^’ll go too.^^ 

‘‘ Hold on,^^ cried Bumpus, stopping suddenly. 

“ Wh}'?^’ inquired the boy. 

“ ^Cause you must stop an^ take care of the gals. It 
won^t do to leave ^eni alone again, you know, Corrie.^'’ 

This remark was accompanied with an exceedingly huge 
wink, full of deep meaning, which Corrie found it conven- 
ient not to notice, as he observed, gravely: 

“ Ah, true! One of us must remain with ’em, poor 
helpless things; so — so you had better go after the squeak- 
er. ” 

“ All right,” said Bumpus, with a broad grin — “ Hallo! 
why, here’s a spear, that must ha’ been dropped by one o’ 
them savages. That’s a piece o’ good luck, anyhow, as the 
man said when he f’und the ti’ pun’ note. Now, then, 
keep an eye on them gals, lad, and I’ll be back as soon as 
ever I can; though I does feel rather stiffish. My old tim- 
bers ain’t used to such deep divin’, d’ye see?” 

Bumpus entered the thicket as he spoke, and Corrie re- 
turned to console the girls with the feeling and the air of a 
man whose bosom is filled with a stern resolve to die, if 
need be, in the discharge of an important duty. 

Now, the yell of this particular pig reached other ears 
besides those of the party whose doings we have attempted 
to describe. It rang in those of the pirates, who had been 
sent ashore to hide, like the scream of a steam-whistle, in 
consequence of their being close at hand, and it sounded 
like a faint cry in those of Henry Stuart and the mission- 
ary, who, with their party, were a long way off, slowly 
tracing the footsteps of the lost Alice, to which they had 
been guided by the keen scent of that animated scrap of 
door-mat, Toozle. The effect on both parties was power- 
ful, but not similar. The pirates, supposing that a band of 
savages were near them, lay close, and did not venture forth 
until a prolonged silence and strong curiosity tempted 
them to creep, with slow movements and extreme caution, 
toward the place whence the sounds proceeded. 

Mr. Mason and Henry, on the other hand, stopped and 
listened with intense earnestness, expecting, yet fearing, a 
recurrence of the cry, and then sprung forward with their 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TKADER. 119 

party, under the belief that they had heard the voice of 
Alice calling for help. 

Meanwhile, Bumpus toiled up the slopes of the mount- 
ain, keeping the pig well in view; for that animal having 
been somewhat injured by the blow from the pistol, could 
not travel at its ordinary speed. Indeed, Jo* would have 
speedily overtaken it, but for the shaky condition of his own 
body after such a long fast, and such a series of violent 
shocks, as well mental as physical. 

Having gained the summit of a hill, the pig, much ex- 
hausted, sat down on its hams, and gazed pensively at the 
ground. Bumpus took advantage of the fact, and also sat 
down On a stone to rest. 

“ Wot a brute it is,^^ said he to himself. “ IJl circum- 
vent it yet, though. 

Presently he rose, and made as if he had abandoned the 
chase, and were about to return the way he had come; but, 
when he, had effectually concealed himself from the \ iew of 
the pig, he made a wide detour, and, coming out suddenly 
at a spot higher up the mountain, charged down upon the 
unsuspecting animal with a yell that would have done 
credit to itself. 

The pig echoed the yell, and rushed down the hill toward 
the cliffs, closely followed by the hardy seaman, who, in 
the ardor of the chase, forgot or ignored his aches and 
pains, and ran like a greyhound, his hair streaming in the 
wind, his eyes blazing with excitement and the spear ready 
poised for a fatal dart. Altogether, he was so wild and 
strong in appearance, and so furious in his onset, that it 
was impossible to believe he had been half dead little more 
than an hour before; but then, as we have before re- 
marked, Bumpus was hard to kill! 

For nearly half an hour did the hungry seaman keep up 
the chase, neither gaining nor losing distance; while the 
affrighted pig, having its attention fixed entirely on its 
pursuer, scrambled and plunged forward over every imagi- 
nable variety of ground, receiving one or two severe falls 
in consequence. Bumpus, being warned by its fate, es- 
caped them. At last the two dashed into a gorge and out 
at the other end, scrambled through a thicket, plunged 
down a hill, and doubled a high rock, on the other side of 
which they were met in the teeth by Henry Stuart at the 
head of his band. 


120 GASCOYNE^ THE SANDAL- WOOD TKADER. 

The pig attempted to double. Failing to do so, it lost 
its footing, and fell flat on its side. Jo Bumpus threw his 
spear with violent energy deep into the earth about two feet 
beyond it, tripped on a stump, and fell headlong on the 
top of the pig, squeezing the life out of its body with the 
weight of hfs ponderous frame, and receiving its dying yell 
into his very bosom. 

‘‘ Hilloa! my stalwart chip of old Neptune, cried 
Henry, laughing, youVe bagged him this time effectual- 
ly. Hast seen any of the niggers; or did you mistake this 
poor pig for one?^^ 

‘‘ Ay, truly, I have seen them, and given a few of ^em 
marks that will keep "’em in remembrance of me. ' As for 
this pig,^^ said Jo, throwing the carcass over his shoulder, 
‘‘ I want a bit of summat to eat — that^s, the fact; an^ the 
poor children will be — 

‘‘ Children, cried Mr. Mason, eagerly; ‘‘ what do you 
mean, my man; have you seen any?'’^ 

In course I has, or I wouldnT speak of •’em,^^ re- 
turned Jo, who did not at first recognize the missionary; 
and no wonder, for Mr. Mason ^s clothes were torn and 
soiled, and his face was bruised, blood-stained, and hag- 
gard. 

“ Tell me, friend, I entreat yon/’ said the pastor, ear- 
nestly, laying his hand on Jo^s arm; have you seen my 
child 

“Wot! are you the father of the little gal? Why, IVe 
seed her only half an hour since. But hold on, lads; come 
arter me, an^ Ifll steer you to where she is at this moment. 

“ Thanks be to God!^^ said Mr. Mason, with a deep sigh 
of relief. “ Lead on, my man, and, pray, go quickly.^^ 

Bumpus at once led the way to the foot of the cliffs, and 
went over the ground at a pace that satisfied even the im- 
patience of the bereaved father. 

While this was occurring on the mountain slopes, the 
pirates at the foot of the cliffs had discovered the three 
children, and, finding that no one else was near, had seized 
them and carried them off to a cave near to which their 
boat lay on the rocks. They hoped to have obtained some 
information from them as to what was going on at the 
other side of the island'; but, while engaged in a fruitless 
attempt to screw something out of Corrie, who was pecul- 
iarly refractory, they were interrupted, first by the yells of 


GASCOYN-E, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADER. 121 

Bumpiis and his pig, and afterward by the sudden appear- 
ance of Henry and his party on the edge of a clitf a short 
way above the spot where they were assembled. On seeing 
these, the pirates started to their feet, and drew their cut- 
lasses, while Henry uttered a shout and ran down the rocks 
like a deer. 

“ Shall we have a stand-up fight with ^em, Bill?^' said 
one of the pirates. 

Hot if I can help it; there '’s four to one,^^ replied the 
other. 

To the boat,^^ cried several of the men, leading the 
way; and let^s take the brats with us.'’’ 

As Henry’s party came pouring down the hill, the more 
combatively disposed of the pirates saw at a glance that it 
would be in vain to attempt a stand. They therefore dis- 
charged a scattering volley from their pistols (happily with- 
out effect), and, springing into their boat, pushed off from 
the shore, taking the children along with them. 

Mr. Mason was the first to gain the beach. He had hit 
upon a shorter path by which to descend, and, rushing for- 
ward, plunged into the sea. Poor little Alice, who at once 
recognized her father, stretched out her arms toward him, 
and would certainly have leaped into the sea had she not 
been forcibly detained by one of the pirates, whose special 
duty it was to hold her with one hand, while he restrained 
the violent demonstrations of Oorrie with the other. 

The father was too late, however. Already the boat was 
several yards from the shore, and the frantic efforts he made 
in the madness of his despair to overtake it only served to 
exhaust him. When Henry Stuart reached the beach, it was 
with difficulty he prevented those members of his band who 
carried muskets from firing on the boat. Hone of them 
thought for a moment, of course, of making the mad at- 
tempt to swim toward her. Indeed, Mr. Mason himself 
would have hesitated to do so had he been capable of cool 
thought at the time; but the sudden rush of hope when 
he heard of his child being near, combined with the agony 
of disappointment on seeing her torn, as it were, out of his 
very grasp, was too much for him. His reasoning powers 
were completely overturned; he continued to buffet the 
waves with wild energy, and to strain every fiber of his be- 
ing in the effort to propel himself through the water, long 
after the boat was hopelessly beyond reach. 


122 GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADER. 

Henry understood liis feelings well, and knew that the 
poor missionary would not cease his efforts until exhaustion 
should compel him to do so, in which case his being 
drowned would be a certainty; for there was neither boat 
nor canoe at hand in which to push off to his rescue. 

In tliese circumstances, the youth took the only course 
that seemed left to him. He threw off his clothes, and 
prepared to swim after his friend, in order to render the 
assistance of his stout arm when it should be needed. 

Here, Jakolu!’^ he cried to one of the natives who 
stood near him. 

‘‘ Yes, massh’,-’^ answered the sturdy young fellow, who 
has been introduced at an earlier part of this story as being 
one of the missionary's best-behaved and most active church 
members. 

‘ ‘ I mean to swim after him ; so I leave the charge of the 
party to Mr. Bumpus there. You will act under his orders. 
Keep the men together, and guard against surprise. We 
don’t know how many more of these blackguards may be 
lurking among the rocks. 

To this speech Jakolu replied by shaking his head slowly 
and gravely, as if he doubted the propriety of his young 
commander’s intentions. 

“ You no can sweem queek nuff to save him,” said he. 

That remirins to be seen, ” retorted Henry, sharply; 
for the youth was one of the best swimmers on the island 
— at least the best among the whites, and better than 
many of the natives, although some of the latter could beat 
him. At any rate,” he continued, “ you would not have 
me stand idly by while my friend is drowning, would you?” 

‘‘ Him’s not drownin’ yet,” answered the matter-of-fact 
native. ‘‘ Me ’vise you to let Jakolu go. Hims can sweem 
berer dan you. See, here am bit plank, too — me take dat. ” 

“Ha! that’s well thought of,” cried Henry, who was 
now ready to plunge; “ fetch it me, quick; and mind, 
Jakolu, keep your eye on me; when I hold up both hands 
you’ll know that I’m dead beat, and that you must come 
off and help us both. ” 

So saying, he seized the small piece of drift-wood which 
the native brought to him, and, plunging into the sea, 
struck out vigorously in the direction in which the pastor 
was still perseveringly, though slowly, swimming. 

While Henry was stripping, his eye had quickly and in- 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL WOOD-TRADER. 123 

telligently taken in the facts that were presented to him on 
the bay. He had seen, on descending the hill, that the 
man-of-war had entered the bay and anchored there, a fact 
which surprised him greatly, and that the ‘‘ Foam still 
lay where he had seen her cast anchor on the morning of 
her arrival. This surprised him more; for, if the latter 
was really a pirate schooner (as had been hinted more than 
once that day by various members of the settlement) why 
did she remain so fearlessly and peacefully within range of 
the guns of so dangerous and powerful an enemy? He also 
observed that one of the large boats of the “ Talisman 
was in the water alongside, and full of armed men, 'as if 
about to put off on some warlike expedition, while his 
pocket-telescope enabled him to perceive that Gascoyne, 
who must needs be the pirate captain, if the suspicions of 
his friends were correct, was smoking quietly on the quar- 
ter-deck, apparently holding amicable converse with the 
British commander. The youth knew not what to think; 
for it was i^reposterous to suppose that a pirate captain 
could by any possibility be the intimate friend of his own 
mother. 

These and many other conflicting thoughts kept rush- 
ing through his mind as he hastened forward; but the con- 
clusions to which they led him — if, indeed, they led him to 
any — were altogether upset by the unaccountable and ex- 
tremely piratical conduct of the seamen who carried off 
Alice and her companions, and whom he knew to be part 
of the crew of the “ Foam/^ both from their costume and 
from the direction in which they rowed their little boat. 

The young man^s perplexities were, however, neutralized 
for the time by his anxiety for his friend the pastor, and by 
the necessity of instant and vigorous effort for his rescue. 
He had just time, before plunging into the sea, to note 
with satisfaction that the nian-of-war^s boat had pushed 
off, and that if Alice really was in the hands of pirates, 
there, was the certainty of her being speedily rescued. 

In this latter supposition, however, Henry was mistaken. 

The events on shore which we have just described, had 
been witnessed, of course, by the crews of both vessels, 
with, as may be easily conjectured, very different feelings. 

In the “ Foam,^^ the few men who were lounging about 
the deck looked uneasily from the war vessel to the counte- 
nance of Manton, in whose hands they felt that their fate 


124 GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. 

now lay. The object of their regard paced the deck slowly, 
with his hands in his pockets and a pipe in his mouth, in 
the most listless manner, in order to deceive the numerous 
eyes which he knew full well scanned his movements with 
deep curiosity. The frowning brow and the tightly com- 
pressed lips alone indicated the storm of anger which was 
in reality raging in the pirate's breast at what he deemed 
the obstinacy of his captain in running into such danger, 
and the folly of his men in having shown light on shore 
when there was no occasion for doing so. But Manton 
was too much alive to his own danger and interests to allow 
passion at such a critical moment to interfere with his 
judgment. He paced the deck slowly, as we have said, 
undecided as to what course he ought to pursue, but ready 
to act with the utmost energy and promptitude when the 
time for action should arrive. 

On board the ‘‘Talisman," on the other hand, the 
young commander began to feel certain of his prize; and 
when he witnessed the scuffle on shore, the flight of the 
boat's crew with the three young people, and the subsequent 
events, he could not conceal a smile of triumph as he 
turned to Gascoyne and said: 

“ Your men are strangely violent in their proceedings, 
sir, for the crew of a peaceable trader. If it were not that 
they are pulling straight for your schooner, where, no 
doubt, they will be received with opeY arms, I would have 
fancied they had been part of the crew of that wonderful 
pirate, who seems to be able to change color almost as 
quickly as he changes " 

The allusion had no elfect whatever on the impertur- 
bable Gascoyne, on whose countenance good-humor seemed 
to have been immovably enthroned; for the worse his case 
became, the more amiable and satisfied was his aspect. 

“ Surely, Captajn Montague does not hold me responsi- 
ble for the doings of my men in my absence," said he, 
calmly. “ I have already said that they are a wild set — > 
not easily restrained even when I am present; and fond of 
getting into scrapes when they can. You see, we have not 
a choice of men in these out-of-the-way parts of the 
world. " 

“Apparently not," returned Montague; “but I hope 
to have the pleasure of seeing you order your men to be 
punished for their misdeeds; for, if not, I shall be under 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. 125 

the necessity of punishing them for you. Is the boat ready, 
Mr. Mulroy?^^ 

“ It is, sir.^^ 

“ Then, Mr. Gascoyne, if you will do me the favor to 
step into this boat, I will have much pleasure in accom- 
panying you on board your schooner. 

“ By all means, replied Gascoyne, with a bland smile, 
as he rose and threw away the end of another cigar, after 
having lighted therewith the sixth or seventh in which he 
had indulged that day. Your boat is well manned, and 
your men are well armed. Captain Montague; do you go 
on some cutting-out expedition, or are you so much 
alarmed at the terrible aspect of the broadside of my small 
craft that — 

Gascoyne here smiled with ineffable urbanity, and bowed 
slightly by way of finishing his sentence. Montague was 
saved the annoyance of having to reply, by a sudden ex- 
clamation from his lieutenant, who was observing the 
schooner’s boat through his telescope. 

“ There seems to be some one swimming after that boat,’^ 
said he. “A man — evidently a European, for he is light- 
colored. He must have been some time in the water, for 
he is already a long way from shore, and seems much ex- 
hausted.” 

“ Why! the man is drowning, I believe,” cried Monta- 
gue, quickly, as he looked through the glass. 

At that moment Frederick Mason’s strength had given 
way. He made one or two manful efforts to struggle after 
the retreating boat, and then, tossing his arms in the air, 
uttered a loud cry of agony. 

“ Ho! shove off and save him!” shouted Montague, the 
moment he heard it. Look alive, lads! give way! and 
when you have picked up the man, pull straight for yonder 
schooner. ” 

The oars at once fell into the water with a splash, and 
the boat, large and heavy though it was, shot from the ship’s 
side like an arrow. 

‘‘ Lower the gig,” cried the captain. ‘‘ And now, Mr. 
Gascoyne, since you seem disposed to go in a lighter boat, 

I will accommodate you. Pray, follow me. ” 

In a few seconds they were seated in the little gig, which 
seemed to fly over the sea under the vigorous strokes of her 
crew of eight stout men. So swift were her motions that 


126 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TKADER. 


she reached the side of the schooner only a few minutes 
later than the ‘‘ Foamy's boat, and a considerable time 
before his own large boat had picked up Mr. Mason, who 
was found_ in an almost insensible condition, supported by 
Henry Stuart. 

When the gig came within a short distance of the 
‘‘ Foam, Gascoyne directed Montague ^s attention to the 
proceedings of the large boat, and at the same instant made 
a private signal with his right hand to Manton, who, still 
unmoved and inactive, stood at the scliooner^s bow await- 
ing and evidently expecting it. 

‘‘lla!^^ said he aloud; ‘‘I thought as much. Now, 
lads, show the red; make ready to slip; off with Long 
Tom^s nightca]:); let out the skulkers; take these children 
down below, and a dozen of you stand by to receive the 
captain and \\\^ fritnds.^^ 

These somewhat peculiar orders, hurriedly given, were 
hastily obeyed, and in a few seconds more the gig of the 
Talisman ranged up alongside of the Foam."’'’ 


CHAPTER XVir. 

THE ESCAPE. 

The instant that Captain Montague stepped over the 
side of the schooner, a handkerchief was pressed tightly 
over his mouth and nose. At the same time, he was 
seized by four strong men and rendered utterly powerless. 
Tlie thing was done so promptly and silently, that the men 
who remained in the gig heard no unusual sound. 

‘‘ Pm sorry to treat a guest so roughly. Captain Monta- 
gue,'’^ said Gascoyne, in a low tone, as the unfortunate 
officer was carried aft; ‘‘ but the safety of my vessel re- 
quires it. They will carry you to my state-room, where you 
will find my steward exceedingly attentive and obliging; 
but, let me warn you, he is peculiarly ready with the butt- 
end of his pistol at times, especially when men are inclined 
to make unnecessary noise."' He turned on his heel as he 
said tliis, and went forward, looking over the side in pass- 
ing and telling the crew of the gig to remain where they 
were till their captain should call them. 

This order the men felt constrained to obey, although 


GASCOYKE, THE SAHDAL-WOOD TRADER. 127 

they were surprised that the captain himself had not given 
it on quitting the boat; their suspicions were further awak- 
ened by the active operations going on upon deck. The 
sounds apprised them of these, for the bulwarks hid every- 
thing from view. At length, when they heard the cable 
slipping through the hawse-hole, they could stand it no 
longer, but sprung up the side in a body. Of course they 
were met by men well prepared. As they were armed only 
with cutlasses, the pirates quickly overcame them, and 
threw them into the sea. 

All further attempt at concealment was now abandoned. 
The man-of-war^s boat, when it came up, was received with 
a shot from Long Tom, which grazed its side, carried away 
four of the starboard oars, and just missed dashing it to 
pieces by a mere hair-’s-breadth. At the same time the sails 
of the schooner were shaken out and filled by the light 
breeze, which, for nearly an hour, had been blowing off 
shore. 

As the coming up of the gig and the large boat had oc- 
curred on that side of the schooner that was furthest from 
the ‘‘ Talisman, those on board of the latter vessel could 
not make out clearly what had occurred. That the 
schooner was a j)irate was now clearly evident; for the red 
griffin and stripe were suddenly displayed, as well as the 
blood-red flag; but the first lieutenant did not dare to fire 
on her while the boats were so near. He slipped the ca- 
ble, however, and made instant sail on the ship; and when 
he saw the large boat and the gig drop astern of the schoon- 
er, the former in a disabled condition, he commenced 
firing as fast as he could load; not doubting that his cap- 
tain was in his own boat. 

At such short range the shot flew around the pirate 
schooner like hail; but she appeared to bear a charmed ex- 
istence; for, although they whistled between her spars and 
struck the sea all around her, very few indeed did her se- 
rious damage. The shots from Long Tom, on the other 
hand, were well aimed, and told with terrible effect on the 
hull and rigging of the frigate. Gascoyne himself pointed 
the gun, and his bright eye flashed, and a grim smile 
played on his lips as the shots whistled round his head. 

The pirate captain seemed to be possessed by a spirit 
of fierce and reckless joviality that day. His usual calm, 
self-possessed demeanor quite forsook him. He issued his 


138 GASCOYJ^E, THE SAHDAL-WOOD TRADER. 

orders in a voice of thunder and with an air of what, for 
want of a better expression, we may term ferocious hearti- 
ness. He generally executed these orders himself, hurling 
the men violently out of his way as if he were indignant at 
their tardiness, although they sprung to obey as actively as 
usual; indeed, more so, for they were overawed and some- 
what alarmed by this unwonted conduct on the part of their 
captain. 

The fact was, that Gascoyne had for a long time past de- 
sired to give up his course of life and amend his ways; but 
he discovered, as all wicked men discover sooner or later, 
that, while it is easy to plunge into evil courses, it is by no 
means easy — on the contraiy it is extremely difficult — to 
give them up. He had formed his resolution and had laid 
his plans; but all had miscarried. Being a man of high 
temper, he had been driven almost to desperation, and 
sought relief to his feelings in physical exertion. 

Of all the men in the Avenger, however, no one was 
so much alarmed by the captain^ s conduct as the first mate, 
between whom and Gascoyne there had been a bitter feel- 
ing for some time past; and Man ton knew (at least he be- 
lieved) that it would be certain death to him if he should 
chance to thwart his superior in the mood in which he 
then was. 

“ That was a good shot, Manton,^^ said Gascoyne, with 
a wild laugh, as the fore- topsail yard of the Talisman 
came rattling down on the deck, having been cut away by 
a shot from Long Tom. 

“ It was; but that was a better one,^'’ said Man ton, point- 
ing to the boom of the schooner^ s mainsail, which was cut 
in two by a round shot, just as the captain spoke. 

‘‘ Good, very good,^^ observed the latter, with an approv- 
ing nod; but that alters the game. Down with the helm ! 
steady!” 

“ Get the wreck of that boom cleared away, Manton; we 
wonT want the mainsail long. Here comes a squall. Look 
sharp. Close reef topsails. ” 

The boom was swaying to and fro so violently that three 
of the men who sprung to execute the order were hurled by 
it into the lee scuppers. Gascoyne darted toward the broken 
spar and held it fast, while Manton quickly severed the' ropes 
that fastened it to the sail and to the deck, then the former 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. 129 

hurled it over the side with as much ease as if it had been 
an oar. 

‘ ‘ Let her away now. ^ ’ 

‘‘ Why, that will run us right into the Long Shoal ex- 
claimed Manton, anxiously, as the squall which had been 
approaching struck the schooner and laid her almost on 
her beam ends. 

know it,^^ replied Gasco5me, curtly, as he thrust 
aside the man at the wheel and took the spokes in his own 
hands. 

“ It^s all we can do to find our way through that place 
in fine weather/^ remonstrated the mate. 

‘‘ I know it,^^ said Gascoyne, sternly. 

Scraggs, who chanced to be standing by, seemed to be 
immensely delighted with the alarmed expression on Man- 
ton ^s face. The worthy second mate hated the first mate 
so cordially, and attached so little value to his own life, 
that he would willingly have run the schooner on the rocks 
altogether. Just to have the pleasure of laughing contempt- 
uously at the wreck of Manton ^s hopes. 

“ It^s worth while trying it,^^ suggested Scraggs, with a 
malicious grin. 

“ I mean to try it,^^ said Gascoyne, calmly. 

But there ^s not a spot in the shoal except the EeLs 
Gate that we've a ghost of a chance of getting through," 
cried Manton, becoming excited as the schooner dashed 
toward the breakers like a furious charger rushing on de- 
struction. 

‘‘I know it." 

“ And there's barely water on that to float us over," he 
added, striding forward, and laying a hand on the wheel. 

“ Half a foot too little," said Gascoyne, with forced calm- 
ness. 

Scraggs grinned. 

“ You sha'n't run us aground if I can prevent it," cried 
Manton, fiercely, seizing the wheel with both hands and 
attempting to move it, in which attempt he utterly failed ; 
and Scraggs grinned broader than ever. 

Eemove your hands," said Gascoyne, in a low, calm 
voice, which surprised the men who were standing near 
and witnessed these proceedings. 

I v/on't. Ho, lads! do you wish to be sent to the bot- 
tom by a — " 


5 


130 GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADEE. 

The remainder of this speech was cut short by the sud- 
den descent of Gascoyne^ s knuckles on the forehead of the 
mate, who dropped on the deck as if he had been felled 
with a sledge-hammer. Scraggs laughed outright with sat- 
isfaction. 

“ Remove him,^^ said Gascoyne. 

“ Overboard inquired Scraggs, with a bland smile. 

“ Below, said the captain; and Scraggs was fain to 
content himself with carrying the insensible form of his 
superior officer to his berth; taking pains, however, to 
bump his head carefully against every spar and corner and 
otherwise convenient projection on the way down. 

In a few minutes more the schooner was rushing through 
the milk-white foam that covered the dangerous coral reef 
named the Jjong Shoal; and the ‘‘ Talisman lay to, not 
daring to venture into such a place, but pouring shot and 
shell into her bold little adversary with terrible effect, as 
the tattered sails and flying cordage showed. The fire was 
steadily replied to by Long Tom, whose heavy shots came 
crashing repeatedly through the hull of the man-of-war. 

The large boat, meanwhile, had been picked up by the 

Talisman,^'’ after having rescued Mr. Mason and Henry, 
both of whom were placed in the gig. This light boat was 
now struggling to make the ship; but, owing to the strength 
of the squall, her diminished crew were unable to effect 
this; they therefore ran ashore, to await the issue of the 
fight and the storm. 

For some’ time the “ Avenger stood on her wild course 
unharmed, passing close to huge rocks on either side of 
her, over which the sea burst in clouds of foam. Gas- 
coyne still stood at the wheel, guiding the vessel with con- 
summate skill and daring, while the men looked on in awe 
and in breathless expectation, quite regardless of the shot 
which flew around them, and altogether absorbed by the 
superior danger by which they were menaced. 

The surface of the sea was so universally white, that there 
was no line of dark water to guide the pirate captain on his 
bold and desperate course. He was obliged to trust almost 
entirely to his intimate knowledge of the coast, and to the 
occasional patches in the surrounding waste where the com- 
parative flatness of the boiling flood indicated less shallow 
water. As the danger increased, the smile left Gascoyne ^s 
lips; but the flashing of his bright eyes and his deepened 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. 131 

color showed that the spirit boiled within almost as wildly 
as the ocean raged around him. 

The center of the shoal was gained, and a feeling of hope 
and exultation began to rise in the breasts of 9ie crew, 
when a terrific shock caused the little schooner to quiver 
from stem to stern, while an involuntary cry burst from 
the men, many of whom were thrown violently on the deck. 
At the same time a shot from the “ Talisman came in 
through the stern bulwarks, struck the wheel and carried 
it away, with part of the tackle attached to the tiller. 

Another leap like that, lass, and youTe over,” cried 
Gascoyne, with a light smile, as he sprung to the iron til- 
ler, and, seizing it with his strong hands, steered the 
schooner as if she had been a boat. 

Get new tackle rove, Scraggs,” said he, cheerfully. 
‘‘ I'll keep her straight for Eel's Gate with ^/ns. That was 
the first bar of the gate; there are only two altogether, and 
the second won 't be so bad. ” 

As the captain spoke, the schooner seemed to recover 
from the shock, and again rushed forward on her foaming 
course; but before the men had time to breathe, she struck 
again — this time less violently, as had been predicted — and 
the next wave, lifting her over the shoal, launched her into 
deep water. 

There, that will do," said Gascoyne, resigning the 
helm to Scraggs. “ You can keep her as she goes: there's 
plenty of water now, and no fear of that big bully following 
us. Meanwhile, I will go below^ and see to the welfare of 
our passengers. " 

Gascoyne was wrong in supposing that the ‘‘ Talisman '' 

, would not follow. She could not indeed follow in the same 
course; but the moment that Mulroy observed that the 
pirate had passed the shoals in safety, he stood inshore, 
and, without waiting to pick up the gig, traversed the 
channel -by which they had entered the bay. Then, trust- 
ing to the lead and to his knowledge of the genm-al appear- 
ance of shallows, he steered carefully along until he cleared 
the reefs, and finally stood out to sea. 

In less than half an hour afterward, the party on shore 
beheld the two vessels disappear among the black storm- 
clouds that gathered over the distant horizon. 


132 


GASCOYl^E, THE SAl^DAL-WOOD TRADEE. 


CHAPTEE XVIII. 

THE goat's pass. — AH ATTACK, A BLOODLESS VICTORY, 
AHD A SERMOH. 

Wheh Ole Thorwald was landed at the foot of that 
wild gorge in the cliffs which has been designated the 
Goat's Pass, he felt himself to be an aggrieved man, and 
growled accordingly. 

It's too bad o' that fire-eating fellovy to fix on me for • 
this particular service, " said he to one of the settlers named 
Hugh Barnes, a cooper, who acted as one of his captains; 

‘‘ and at night, too; just as if a man of my years were a 
cross between a cat (which everybody knows can see in the 
dark) and a kangaroo, which is said to be a powerful leaper, 
though whether in the dark or the light I don't pretend to 
know, not being informed on the point. Have a care, 
Hugh. It seems to me you're going to step into a quarry 
hole, or over a precipice. How my old flesh quakes, to be 
sure ! If it was only a fair flat field and open day, with 
any odds you like against me, it would be nothing; but this 
abominable Goat's — Hah! I knew it. Help! hold on there! 
murder!" 

Ole's sudden alarm was caused by his stumbling in the 
dark over the root of a shrub which grew on the edge of, 
and partly concealed, a precipice, over which he was pre- 
cipitated, and at the foot of which his mangled and lifeless 
form would soon have reposed, had not his warlike forefa- 
thers, being impressed with the advantage of wearing strong 
sword-belts, furnished the sword which Ole wore with such 
a belt as was not only on all occasions sufficient to support 
the sword itself, but which, on this particular occasion, 
was strong enough to support its owner when he was sus- 
pended from, and entangled with, the shrubs of the cliff. 

A ray of light chanced to break into the dark chasm at 
the time, and revealed all its dangers to the pendulous 
Thorwald so powerfully that he positively howled Avith 
horror. 

The howl brought Hugh and several of his followers to 
his side, and they with much difficulty, for he was a heavy 
man, succeeded in dragging him from his dangerous posi- 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADER. 


133 


tion and placing him on his feet, in which position he re- 
mained for some time, speechless and blowing. 

‘‘ Now, 1^11 tell ye what it is, boys,^" said he at length, 
“ if ever you catch me going on an expedition of this sort 
again, flay me alive— that’s all; don’t spare me. Pull off 
the cuticle as if it were a glove; and if I roar don’t mind — 
that’s what I say. ” 

Having said this, the veteran warrior smiled a ghastly 
smile, as if the idea of being so excruciatingly treated were 
rather pleasant than otherwise. 

You’re not hurt, I hope?” inquired Hugh. 

“ Hurt! yes, I am hurt — hurt in my feelings, not in my 
body, thanks to my good sword and belt; but my feelings 
are injured. That villain, that rascal, that pirate — as I 
verily believe him to be — selected me especially for this 
service, I am persuaded, just because he knew me to be un- 
fit for it. ■ Bah! but I’ll pay him off for it. Come, boys, 
forward — perhaps, in the circumstances, it would be more 
appropriate to say, upward! We must go- through with it 
now, as our retreat is cut off. Lead the way, Hugh; your 
eyes are younger and sharper than mine; and if you chance 
to fall over a cliff, pray give a yell, like a good fellow, so 
that I may escape your sad fate. ” 

In the course of half an hour’s rough scramble, the party 
gained the crest of the Goat’s Pass and descended in rear of 
the native village. The country over which they had to 
travel, however, was so broken and so beset with rugged 
masses of rock as to retard their progress considerably, be- 
sides causing them to lose their way more than once. It 
was thus day-break before they reached the heights that 
overlooked the village; and the shot from the “ Avenger,” 
with the broadside from the frigate, was delivered just as 
they began to descend the hill. 

Ole, therefore, pushed on with enthusiasm to attack the 
village in rear; but he had not advanced half a mile when 
< -I • • ■’■ ’ le movements of the two 



described, took place. 


leaving the honest commander of the land forces in a state 
of great perplexity as to what ’was meant by his naval 
allies, and in much doubt as to what he ought to do. 

It seems to me,” said he to his chiefs, in a hastily 
summoned council of war, “ that we are all at sixes and 
sevens. I don’t understand what maneuvers these naval 


134 GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADER. 

men are to, and I doubt if they know themselves. This 
being the case, and the fleet, if I may so name it, having 
run away, it behooves us, my friends, to show these sailors 
how we soldiers do our duty. I would advise, therefore, 
that we should attack at once. But as we are not a strong 
party, and as we know not how strong the savages may be, 
1 think it my duty, before leading you on, to ask your 
opinions on the point. 

The officers whose ojmiions were thus asked were Hugh 
Barnes already mentioned, Terrence Eigg the blacksmith 
of the settlement, and John Thomson the carpenter. 
Those, being strong of body, powerful of will, and intelli- 
gent withal, had been appointed to the command of com- 
panies, and when on duty were styled ‘‘ captain by their 
commanding ofticer, who was, when on duty, styled ‘‘ gen- 
eral by them. 

Ole Thorwald, be it remarked in passing, was a soldier 
at heart. Having gone through a moderate amount of 
military education, and possessing considerable talent in 
the matter of drill, he took special pride in training the 
natives and the white men of the settlement to act in con- 
cert and according to fixed principles. The consequence 
W'as, that, although his men were poorly armed, he had 
them in perfect command, and could cause them to act 
unitedly at any moment. 

The captains having been requested to give their opinions. 
Captain Eigg, being senior, observed that he was for ‘‘ go- 
in’ at ^em at wance, neck or nothing;^-' to which warlike 
sentiment he gave a peculiar emphasis by adding, ‘‘ an^ no 
mistake, in a very decided tone of voice. 

That's wot I says too, general,''^ said Captain Thom- 
son, the carpenter. 

Captain Barnes being of the same oinnion. General Thor- 
wald said: 

Well, then, gentlemen, we shall attack without delay;^^ 
and proceeded to make the necessary arrangements. < 

When the “ Talisman fired her broadside of blank 
cartridge at the native village, there was not a solitary 
warrior in it — only aged men, women, and children. These, 
filled with unutterable consternation on hearing the thun- 
derous discharge, sent up one yell of terror and forthwith 
took to their heels and made for the hills e?i masse, never 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADER. 135 

once looking behind them, and, therefore, remaining in 
ignorance of the ulterior proceedings of the ship. 

It was some time before they came in sight of Ole Thor- 
wald and his men. 

The moment they did so Ole gave the word to charge; 
and, whirling his sword round his head, set the example. 
The men followed with a yell. The poor savages turned 
at once and fled — such of them at least as were not already 
exhausted by their run uphill — and the rest, consisting 
chiefly of old men and children, fell on their knees and 
faces and howled for mercy. 

As soon as the charging host became aware of the char- 
acter of the enemy, they came to a sudden halt. 

“ Sure, it^s owld men and women we’re about to kill!^' 
cried Captain Rigg, lowering his formidable forehammer, 
with which, in default of a better weapon, he had armed 
himself; ‘‘but, hooray, ginerall there may be lots o’ the 
warrior reptiles in among the huts, and them poor craturs 
have been sent out to deceive us. ” 

“ That’s true. Forward, my lads I” shouted Ole, and 
again the army charged; nor did they stop short until they 
had taken possession of the village, when they found that 
all the fighting men were gone. 

This being happily accomplished without bloodshed. Ole 
Thorwald, like a wise general, took the necessary steps to 
insure and complete his conquest. He seized all the wom- 
en and children, and shut them up in a huge temple built 
of palm trees, and roofed with broad leaves. This edifice 
was devoted to the horrible practice, of cutting up human 
bodies that were intended to be eaten. 

Ole had often heard of the cannibalism that is practiced 
by most of the South Sea Islanders, though some tribes 
are worse than others; but he had never before this day 
come directly in contact with it. Here, however, there 
could be no doubt whatever of the fact. Portions of hu- 
man bodies were strewn about this hideous temple — some 
parts in a raw and bloody condition, as if they had just 
been cut from a lately slain victim; others in a baked 
state, as if ready to form part of some terrible banquet. 

Sick at heart. Ole Thorwald turned from this sight with 
loathing. Concluding that the natives who practiced such 
things could not be very much distressed by being shut up 
for a time in a temple dedicated to the gratification of their 


136 GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TKADEE. 

own disgusting tastes, he barricaded the entrance securely, 
placed a guard over it, and hurried away to see that two 
other buildings, in which the remainder of the women and 
children had been imprisoned, were similarly secured and 
guarded. Meanwhile the stalwart knight of the foreham- 
mer, to whom the duty had been assigned, placed sentries 
at the various entrances to the village, and disposed his 
men in such a way as to prevent the possibihty of being 
taken by surprise. 

These various arrangements were not made a moment 
too soon. The savages, as we have said in a former chap- 
ter, rushed toward their village from all quarters, on hear- 
ing the thunder of the great guns. They were now arriv- 
ing in scores, and came rushing over the brow of the neigh- 
boring hill, and down the slopes that rose immediately in 
rear of their rude homes. 

On finding that the place was occupied by their enemies, 
they set up a yell of despair, and retired to a neighboring 
height, where Ole could see, by their wild gesticulations, 
that they were hotly debating what should be done. It 
soon became evident that an attack would be made; for, as 
their comrades came pouring in, the party from the settle- 
ment was soon greatly outnumbered. 

Seeing this, and knowing that the party under command 
of Henry Stuart would naturally hasten to his aid as soon 
as possible. Ole sought to cause delay by sending out a fiag 
of truce. 

The natives had been so long acquainted with the customs 
of the Europeans that they understood the meaning of this, 
and the chief of the tribe, at once throwing down his club, 
advanced fearlessly to meet the Christian native sent out 
with the fiag. 

The message was to the effect that if they, the enemy, 
should dare to make an attack, all the women and children 
then in the hands of the settlers should have their heads 
chopped off on the spot! 

This was a startling announcement, and one so directly 
in opposition to the known principles of the Christians, 
that the heathen chief was staggered, and turned pale. He 
returned to his comrades wnth the horrifying message, 
which seemed to them all utterly unaccountable. It was 
quite natural for themselves to do such a deed, because 
they held that all sorts of cruelties were just in war. But 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. 137 

their constant experience had been that, when a native be- 
came a follower of the Christian missionary, from that mo- 
ment he became merciful, especially toward the weak aiid 
helpless. Counting upon this, they were stunned as well 
as astonished at Thorwald^'s message; for they believed im- 
plicitly that he meant to do what he threatened. They did 
not know that Ole, although a worthy man, was not so 
earnest a believer in all Mr. Mason^s principles but that 
he could practice on their credulity in time of need. Like 
the missionary, he would rather have died than have sacri- 
ficed the life of a woman or child; but, unlike him, he had 
no objection to deceive in order to gain time. 

As it turned out, his threat was unnecessary, for Henry 
and his men were close at hand; and before the natives 
could make up their m ..nds what to do, the whole band 
came pouring over the hill, with Jo Bumpus far ahead of 
the rest, leaping and howling like a maniac with excite- 
ment. 

This decided the natives. They were now outnumbered 
and surrounded. The principal chief, therefore, advanced 
toward Bumpus with a piece of native cloth tied to the end 
of his war-club, which he brandished furiously by way of 
making it plain that his object was not war, but peace! 

Naturally enough, the seaman misinterpreted the signal, 
and there is no doubt that he would have planted his 
knuckles on the bridge of the nose of the swarthy cannibal 
had not Henry Stuart made use of his extraordinary powers 
of speed. He darted forward, overtook Jo, and, grasping 
him round the neck with both arms, shouted : 

“ If’s a fiag of truce, man!^^ 

“ You donH say so? — well, who’d ha^ thought it? It 
donT look like one; so it donT.-’^ 

With this remark, Jo subsided into a peaceable man. 
Pulling a quid out of his pocket, he thrust it into his cheek, 
and, crossing his arms on his breast, listened patiently — 
though not profitably, seeing that he did not understand a 
word — to the dialogue that followed. 

It will be remembered that poor Mr. Mason, aftp being 
saved by Henry, was taken into the gig of the Talisman 
and put ashore. After the two vessels had disappeared, as 
has been already described, Henry at once led his party 
toward the native village, knowing that Ole Thorwald 


138 


GASCOYI^E, THE SAKDAL-WOOD TRADER. 


would require support, all the more that the ship had failed 
to fulfill her' part in the combined movement. 

As the almost heart-broken father had no power to render 
further aid to his lost child, he suffered himself to be led, 
in a half-bewildered state, along with the attacking party 
under his young friend. He was now brought forward to 
parley with the native chief. 

The missionary's manner and aspect at o"iice changed. 
In the hope of advancing the cause of his Master, he forgot, 
or at least restrained, his own grief for a time. 

“ What would the chief say to the Christians?^' he be- 
gan, on being confronted with the savage and some of his 
warriors who crowded round him. 

“ That he wishes to have done with war," replied the 
man. 

‘‘ That is a good wish; but why did the chief begin war?" 

“ Keoiia began it!" said the savage, angrily. ^‘We 
thought our wars with the Christians were going to stop. 
But Keona is bad. He j)ut the war spirit into my people. " 

Mr. Mason knew this to be true. 

“ Then," said he, “ Keona deserves punishment." 

‘‘ Let him die," answered the chief; and an exclamation 
of assent broke from the other natives. Keona himself, 
happening to be there, became pale and looked anxious; 
but remained where he stood, nevertheless, with his arms 
crossed on his dark breast. A bandage of native cloth was 
tied round his wounded arm. Without saying a word he 
undid this, tore it off, and allowed the blood to ooze from 
the reopened wound. 

It was a silent appeal to the feelings and the sense of 

i 'ustice of his comrades, and created a visible impression in 
lis favor. 

“ That wound was received by one who would have been 
a murderer!" said Mr. Mason, observing the effect of this 
action. 

He struck me!" cried Keona, fiercely. 

“ He struck you in defending his own home against a 
cowardly attack," answered the missionary. 

At this point Ole Thorwald saw fit to interfere. Seeing 
that the natives were beginning to argue the case, and 
knowing that no good could come from such a course, he 
quietly observed: 


GASCOYis^E^ THE SANDAL- WOOD TKADER. 


139 


‘‘ There will be neither wife nor child in this place if I 
do but hold up my hand/'’ 

The missionary and his party did not, of course, under- 
stand this allusion, but they understood the result; for 
the savages at once dropped their tones, and the chief sued 
earnestly for peace. 

Chiefs and warriors,^^ said Mr. Mason, raising his hand 
impressively, ‘‘ I am a man of peace, and I serve the Prince 
of Peace. To stop this war is what I desire most earnestly; 
and I desire above all things that you and I might hence- 
forth live in friendship, serving the same God and Saviour, 
whose name is Jesus Christ. But your ways are not like 
our ways. If I leave you now, I fear you will soon find 
another occasion to renew the war, as you have often done 
before. I have you in my power now. If you were to 
fight with us we could easily beat you, because we are 
stronger in numbers and well armed. Yes, I have you in 
my power, and, with the blessing of my God, I will keep 
you in my power forever.^' 

There was a visible fall in the countenances of the sav- 
ages, who regarded this strange announcement as their 
death-warrant. Some of them even grasped their clubs, 
and looked fiercely at their enemies; but a glance from Ole 
Thorwald quieted these restive spirits. 

‘‘ Now, chiefs and warriors, I have two intentions in re- 
gard to you,'’* continued Mr. Mason. ‘‘ The one is that 
you shall take your clubs, spears, and other weapons, and 
lay them in a pile on this mound, after which I will make 
you march unarmed before us half way to our settlement. 
From that point you shall return to your homes. Thus 
you shall be deprived of the power of treacherously break- 
ing that peace which you know in your hearts you would 
break if you could. 

‘‘ My second intention is that the whole of your tribe — 
men, women, and children — shall now assemble at the foot 
of this mound and hear what I have got to say to you. 
The first part of this plan I shall carryout by force, if need 
be. But for the second part, I must have your own con- 
sent. I may not force you to listen if you are not willing 
to hear. 

At the ‘mention of the women and children being re- 
quired to assemble along with them, the natives pricked up 


140 GASCOYIn'E, the SAH HAL-WOOD TRADER. 

their ears, and, as a matter of course, they willingly agreed 
to listen to all that the missionary had to say to them. 

This being settled, and the natives knowing, from former 
experience, that the Christians never broke faith with 
them, they advanced to the mound pointed out and threw 
down their arms. A strong guard was placed over these; 
the troops of the settlement were disposed in such a man- 
ner as to' prevent the possibility of their being recovered, 
and then the women and children were set free. 

It was a noisy and remarkable meeting that which took 
place between the men and women of the tribe on this oc- 
casion; but soon surprise and expectation began to take 
the place of all other feelings as the strange intentions of 
the missionary were spoken of, and in a very short time 
Mr. Mason had a large and a most attentive congregation. 

Never before had the missionary secured such an oppor- 
tmiity. His eccentric method of obtaining a hearing had 
succeeded beyond his expectations. With a heai-t overflow- 
ing v/ith gratitude to God, he stood up and began to preach 
the Gospel. 

Mr. Mason was not only eccentric, but able and wise. 
He made the most of his opportunity. He gave them a 
very long sermon that day; but he knew that the savages 
were not used to sermons, and that they would not think 
it long. His text was a double one — ‘‘ The soul that sin- 
neth it shall die,^^ and Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, 
and thou shalt be saved. 

He preached that day as a man might who speaks to his 
hearers for the flrst and last time, and, in telling of the 
goodness, the mercy, and the love of God, the bitter grief 
of his own heart was sensibly abated. 

After his discourse was over and prayer had been offered 
up, the savage warriors were silently formed into a band 
and marched off in front of the Christians to the spot where 
Mr. Mason had promised to set them free. They showed 
no disinclination to go. They believed in the good faith of 
their captors. The missionary had, indeed, got them into 
his power that day. Some of tliem he had secured forever ! 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TKADER. 


141 


CHAPTER XIX. 

SORROW AND SYMPATHY. — THE WIDOW BECOMES A 
PLEADER, AND HER SON ENGAGES IN A SINGLE COM- 
BAT. 

There are times in the life of every one when the heart 
seems unable to bear the load of sorrow and suffering that 
is laid upon it — times when the anguish of the soul is such 
that the fair world around seems enshrouded with gloom, 
when the bright sun itself appears to shine in mockery, 
and when the smitten heart refuses to be comforted. 

Such a time was it with poor Frederick Mason when, 
after his return to Sandy Cove, he stood alone, amid the 
blackened ruins of his former home, gazing at the spot 
which he knew, from the charred remnants as well as its 
position, was the site of the room which had once been oc- 
cupied by his lost child. 

It was night when he stood there. The silence was pro- 
found, for the people of the settlement sympathized so 
deeply with their beloved pastor^s grief that even the ordi- 
nary hum of life appeared to be hushed, except now and 
then when a low wail would break out and float away on 
the night wind. These sounds of woe were full of mean- 
ing. They told that there were other mourners there that 
night — that the recent battle had not been fought without 
producing some of the usual bitter fruits of war. Beloved, 
but dead and mangled forms, lay in more than one hut in 
Sandy Cove. 

Motionless, hopeless, the missionary stood amid the 
charred beams and ashes, until the words, “ Call upon me 
in the day of trouble and I will deliver thee, and thou shalt 
glorify me, ” descended on his soul like sunshine upon ice. 
A suppressed cry burst from his lips, and, falling on his 
knees, he poured forth his soul in prayer. 

While he was yet on his knees, a cry of anguish arose 
from one of the huts at the foot of the hill. It died away 
in a low, heart-broken wail. Mr. Mason knew its meaning 
well. That cry had a special significance to him. It spoke 
reproachfully. It said, There is comfort for you, for 
where life is there is hope; but here there is death, 


142 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADER. 


Again the word of God came to his memory — “ Weep 
with them that weep.^'’ Starting up hastily, the mission- 
ary sprung over the black beams, and hurried down the 
hill, entered the village, and spent the greater part of the 
remainder of that night in comforting the bereaved and 
the wounded. 

The cause of the pastor^s grief was not removed thereby, 
but the^^orrow itself was lightened by sympathy; and when 
he returned, at a late hour, to his temporary home, hope 
had begun to arise within his breast. 

The widow^s cottage afforded him shelter. When he en- 
tered it, Henry and ' his mother' were seated near a small 
table on which supper was spread for their expected guest. 

‘‘Tom Armstrong will recover,'’-’ said the missionary, 
seating himself opposite the widow, and speaking in a hur- 
ried, excited tone. “ His wound is a bad one, given by a 
war-club, but I think it is not dangerous. I wish I could 
say as much for poor Simon. If he had been attended to 
sooner he might have lived; but so much blood has been 
already lost that there is now no hope. Alas for his little 
boy! He will be an orphan soon. Poor Hardy’s wife is 
distracted with grief. Her young husband’s body is so dis- 
figured with cuts and bruises that is dreadful to look upon; 
yet she will not leave the room in which it lies, nor cease 
to embrace and cling to the mangled corpse. Poor, poor 
Lucy! she will have to be comforted. At present she must 
be left with God. No human sympathy can avail just 
now; but she must be comforted when she will permit any 
one to speak to her. You will go to her to-morrow, Mrs. 
Stuart, won’t you?” 

As this was Mr. Mason’s first meeting with the widow 
since the Sunday morning when the village was attacked, 
his words and manner showed that he dreaded any allusion 
to his own loss. The widow saw and understood this; but 
she had consolation for him as well as for others, and 
would not allow him to have his way. 

“ But what of Alice?” she said; earnestly. “ You do 
not mention her. Henry has told me all. Have you noth- 
ing to say about yourself — about Alice?” 

“Oh! what can I say?” cried the pastor, clasping his 
hands, while a deep sob almost choked him. 

“ Can you not say that she is in the hands of God — of a 
loving Father f ’ said Mrs. Stuart, tenderly. 


GASCOYKE^ THE SAKDAL-WOOD TRADER. 


143 


‘‘ Yes, I can say that — I have said that; but — but— 

‘‘ I know what you would say,^^ interrupted the widow; 

you would tell me that she is in the hands of pirates — 
ruthless villains who fear neither God nor man, and that, 
unless a miracle is wrought in her behalf, nothing can save 
her — 

“Oh! spare me, Mary; why do you harrow my broken 
heart with such a picture?^'’ cried Mr. Mason, rising and 
pacing the room with quick, unsteady steps, while with 
both hands on his head beseemed to attempt to crush down 
the thoughts that burned up his brain. 

“ I speak thus,^^ said the widow, with an earnestness of 
tone and manner that almost startled her hearers, “ because 
I wish to comfort you. Alice, you tell me, is on board the 
‘Foam-^^^— 

“ On board the ‘pirate schooner cried Henry, almost 
fiercely; for the youth, although as much distressed as Mr. 
Mason, was not so resigned as he, and his spirit chafed at 
the thought of having been deceived so terribly by the 
pirate. 

“ She is on board the ‘ Foam,^ repeated the widow, in 
a tone so stern that her hearers looked at her in surprise, 
“ and is therefore in the hands of Gascoyne, who will not 
injure a hair of her head. I tell you, Mr. Mason, that she 
is perfectly safe in the hands of Gascoyne. 

“ Of the pirate Durward!^^ said Henry, in a deep, angry 
voice. 

“ What ground have you for saying so?^^ asked the 
widow, quickly. “ You only know him as Gascoyne the 
sandal- wood trader — the captain of the ‘ Foam. ^ He has 
been suspected, it is true; but suspicion is not proof. His 
schooner has been fired into by a war- vessel; he has re- 
turned the fire: any passionate man might be tempted to 
do that. His men have carried off some of our dear ones. 
That was their doing, not his. He knew nothing of it. 

“Mother, mother, cried Henry, entreatingly, “donH 
stand up in that way for a pirate; I can^t bear to hear it. 
Did he not himself describe the pirate schooner^s appear- 
ance in this room, and when he was attacked by the 
‘ Talisman ^ did he not show out in his true colors, thereby 
proving that he is DurAvard the pirate 

The widow^s face grew pale and her voice trembled as 
she replied, like one who sought to convince herself rather 


144 GASCOYKE^ THE SAKDAL-WOOD TEADER. 

than her hearer, That is not positive proof, Henry. Gas- 
coyne may have had some good reason for deceiving you all 
in this way. His description of the pirate may have been 
a false one. We can not tell. You know he was anxious 
to prevent Captain Montague from impressing his men.'’^ 

* And would proclaiming himself a pirate be a good way 
of accomplishing that end, mother?" 

‘‘ Mary,^-’ said Mr. Mason, solemnly, as he seated him- 
self at the table and looked earnestly in the widow ^s face, 
“ your knowledge of this man and your manner of speaking 
about him surprise me. I have long thought that you were 
not acting wisely in permitting Gascoyne to be so intimate; 
for, whatever he may in reality be, he is a suspicious char- 
acter, to say the best of him; and although I know that 
you think you are right in encouraging his visits, other peo- 
ple do not know that; they may judge you harshly. I do 
not wish to pry into secrets; but you have sought to com- 
fort me by bidding me have perfect confidence in this man? 
I miist ask what knowledge you have of him. How far are 
you aware of his character and employment? How do you 
know that he is so trustworthy?^^ 

An expression of deep grief rested on the widow^s coun- 
tenance as she replied, in a sad voice: 

“ I hnoio that you may trust Gascoyne with your child. 
He is my oldest friend. I have known him since we were 
children. He saved my father ^s life long, long ago, and 
helped to support my mother in her last years. Would 
you have me to forget all this because men say that he is a 
pirate?" 

Why, mother," cried Henry, “ if you know so much 
about him you 7nust know that, whatever he was in time 
past, he is the pirate Durward now.'’^ 

‘‘Ido not know that he is the pirate Durward!" said 
the widow, in a voice and with a look so decided that Henry 
was silenced and sorely perplexed; yet much relieved, for 
he knew that his mother would rather die than tell a delib- 
erate falsehood. 

The missionary was also comforted; for although liis 
judgment told him that the grounds of hope thus held out 
to him were very insufficient, he was impressed by the 
thoroughly confident tone of the widow, and felt relieved 
in spite of himself. 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADER. 145 

Soon after this conversation was concluded, the house- 
hold retired to rest. 

ISText morning Henry was awakened out of a deep sleep 
by the sound of subdued voices in the room underneath his 
own. At first he paid no attention to these, supposing 
that, as it was broad daylight, some of their native servants 
were moving about. But presently the sound of his 
mother ^s voice induced him to listen more attentively. 
Then a voice replied, so low that he could with difficulty 
hear it at all. Its strength increased, however, and at last 
it broke forth in deep bass tones. 

Heniy sprung up and, threw on his clothes. As he was 
thus engaged the front door of the house opened, and the 
speakers went out. A few seconds sufficed for the youth 
to finish dressing him; then, seizing a pistol, he hurried 
out of the house. Looking quickly round, he just caught 
sight of the skirts of a woman ^s dress as they disappeared 
through the door- way of a hut which had been formerly in- 
habited by a poor native, who had subsisted on the widow ^s 
bounty until he died. The door was shut immediately 
after. 

Going swiftly but cautiously round by a back way, Henry 
approached the hut. Strange and conflicting feelings filled 
his breast. A blush of deep shame and self-abhorrence 
mantled on liis cheek when it flashed across him that he 
was about to jDlay the s]3y on his own mother. But there 
was no mistaking Gascoyne '’s voice. 

How the supposed pirate had got there, and wherefore 
he was there, were matters that he did not think of or care 
about at that moment. There he was; so the young man 
resolved to secure him and hand him over to justice. 

Henry was too honorable to listen secretly to a conversa- 
tion, whatever it might be, that was not intended for his 
ears. He resolved merely to peep in at one of the many 
chinks in the log hut for one moment, to satisfy himseH 
that Gascoyne really, was there, and to observe his position. 
But as the latter now thought himself beyond the reach of 
any one, he spoke in unguarded tones, and Henry heard a 
few woi'ds in spite of himself. 

Looking through a chink in the wall at the end of the 
hut, he beheld the stalwart form of the sandal-wood trader 
standing on the hearth of the hut, which was almost un- 
furnished — a stool, a bench, an old chest, a table, and a 


146 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADER. 


chair being all that it contained. His mother was seated 
at the table, with her hands clasped before her, looking up 
at her companion. 

“Oh! why run so great a risk as this?^^ said she ear- 
nestly. 

“ I was born to run risks, I belie v'e,^^ replied Gascoyne, 
in a sad, low voice. “ It matters not. My being on the 
island is the result of Man ton's villainy; my being here is 
for poor Henry's sake and your own, as well as for the sake 
of Alice the missionary's child. You have been upright, 
Mary, and kind, and true as steel ever since I knew you. 
But for that I should have been lost long ago — " 

Henry heard no more. These words did indeed whet his 
curiosity to the utmost; but the shame -of acting the part 
of an “ eavesdropper " was so great, that by a strong effort 
of will, he drew back, and pondered for a moment what he 
ought to do. The unexpected tone and tenor of Gascoyne's 
remark had softened him slightly; but, recalling the un- 
doubted proofs that he had had of liis really being a pirate, 
he soon steeled his heart against him. He argu^ that the 
mere fact of a man giving his mother credit for a character 
which everybody knew she possessed, was not sufficient to 
clear him of the susj)icions which he had raised against him- 
self. Besides, it was impertinence in any man to tell his 
mother his. opinion of ‘her to her face. And to call him 
“ poor Henry," forsooth! This was not to be endured! 

Having thus wrouglit himself up to a sufficient degree of 
indignation, the young man went straight to the door, 
making considerable noise in order to prepare those within 
for his advent. He had expected to find it locked. In tliis 
he was mistaken. It yielded to a push. 

Throwing it wide open, Henry strode into the middle of 
the apartment, and, pointing the pistol at Gascoyne's 
breast, exclaimed: 

“ Pirate Diirward, I arrest you in the king's name!" 

At the first sound of her son's approach, Mrs. Stuart 
bent forward over the table with a groan, and buried her 
face in her hands. 

Gascoyne received Henry's speech at first with a frown, 
and then with a smile. 

“ You have taken a strange time and way to jest, 
Henry," said he, crossing his arms on liis broad" chest and 
gazing boldly mto the youth's face. 


GASCOYKE, THE SAKHA L- WOOD TRADER. 147 

‘‘ You will not throw me off my guard thus/^ said 
Henry, sternly. ‘‘ You are my prisoner. I know you to 
be a pirate. At any rate you will have to prove yourself to 
be an honest man before you quit this hut a free man. 
Mother, leave this place, that I may lock the door upon 
him.^'’ 

The widow did not move, but Gascoyne made a step 
toward her son. 

‘‘ Another step and I will fire. Your blood shall be on 
your -own head, Gascoyne."’^ 

As Gascoyne still advanced, Henry pointed the pistol 
straight at his breast and pulled the trigger, but no report 
followed; thei-priming, indeed, flashed in the pan, but that 
was all! 

With a cry of rage and defiance, Henry leaped upon 
Gascoyne like a young lion. He struck at him with the 
pistol; but the latter caught the weapon in his powerful 
hand, wrenched it from the youth ^s grasp, and flung it to 
the other end of the apartment. 

^‘You shall not escape me,^^ cried Henry, aiming a 
tremendous blow with his fist at Gascoyne ^s face. It was 
parried, and the next moment the two closed in a deadly 
struggle. 

It was a terrible sight for the widow to witness these two 
Herculean men exerting their great strength to the utmost 
in a hand-to-hand conflict in that small hufc, like two tigers 
in a cage. 

Henry, although nearly six feet in height, and propor- 
tionally broad and powerful, was much inferior to his 
gigantic antagonist; but to the superior size and physical 
force of the latter he opposed the lithe activity and the 
fervid energy of youth, so that to an unpracticed eye it 
might have seemed doubtful at first which of the two men 
had the best chance. 

Straining his powers to the utmost, Henry attempted to 
lift his opponent off the ground and throw him. In this 
he was nearly successful. Gascoyne staggered, but re- 
covered himself instantly. They did not move much from 
the center of the room, nor was there much noise created 
during the conflict. It seemed too close — too full of con- 
centrated energy, of heavy, prolonged straining— for much 
violent modon. The great veins in Gascoyne’s forehead 
stood out like knotted cords; yet there was no scowl or 


148 


GASCOYKE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADER. 


frown on his face. Henryk's brows, on the contrary, were 
gathered into a dark frown. His teeth were set, and his 
countenance flushed to deep red by exertion and passion. 

Strange to say, the widow made no effort to separate the 
combatants; neither did she attempt to move from her 
seat to give any alarm. She sat with her hands on the 
table clasped tightly together, gazing eagerly, anxiously, 
like a fascinated creature, at the wild struggle that was 
going on before her. 

Again and again Henry attempted, with all the Are of 
youth, to throw his adversary by one tremendous effort, 
but failed. Then he tried to fling him off, so as to have the 
power of using his fists or making an overwhelming rush. 
6ut Gascoyne held him in his strong arms like a vise. 
Several times he freed his right arm and attempted to 
plant a blow; but Gascoyne caught the blow in his hand, 
or seized the wrist and prevented its being delivered. In 
short, do what he would, Henry Stuart could neither free 
himself from the embrace of his enemy nor conquer him. 
Still he struggled on; for as this fact became more ap- 
parent, the youth ^s blood became hotter from mingled 
shame and anger. 

Both men soon began to show symptoms of fatigue. It 
was not in the nature of things that two such frames, 
animated by such spirits, could prolong so exliausting a 
struggle. It was not doubtful now which of the two would 
come off victorious. During the whole course of the fight 
Gascoyne had acted entirely on the defensive. A small 
knife or stiletto hung at his left side, but he never 
attempted to use, it, and he never once tried to throw his 
adversary. In fact, it now became evident, even to the 
widow^s perceptions, that the captain was actually playing 
with her son. 

All along, his countenance, though flushed and eager, 
exhibited no sign of passion. He seemed to act like a 
good-humored man who had been foolishly assaulted by a 
headstrong boy, and who meant to keep him in play until 
he should tire him out. 

J ust then the tinkling of a bell and other sounds of the 
people of the establishment beginning to move were heard 
outside. Henry noticed this. 

“ Ha!^^ he exclaimed, in a gasping voice, “ I can at 
least hold you until help comes.''' 


GASCOYITE, THE SAHHAL-WOOD TKADER. 149 

Gascoyne heard the sounds also. He said nothing, but 
he brought the strife to a swift termination. For the first 
time he bent his back like a man who exerts himself in 
earnest, and lifted Henry completely off the ground. 

Throwing him on his back, he pressed him down with 
both arms so as to break from his grasp. No human 
muscles could resist the force applied. Slowly but surely 
the iron sinews of Henryks arms straightened out, and the 
two were soon at arm^s-length. 

But even Gascoyne^s strength could not unclasp the gripe 
of the youth^s hands, until he placed his knee upon his 
chest; then, indeed, they were torn away. 

Of course, all this was not done without some violence; 
but it was still plain to the widow that Gascoyne was care- 
ful not to hurt his antagonist more than he could help. 

“ Now, Heniy, my lad,^^ said he, holding the youth 
down by the two arms, ‘‘ I have given you a good deal of 
trouble this morning, and I mean to give you a little more. 
It does not just suit me at present to be tried for a pirate, 
so I mean to give you a race. You are reputed one of the 
best runners in the settlement. Well, Fll give you a 
chance after me. If you overtake me, boy, ITl give my- 
self up to you without a struggle. But I suspect youTl 
find me rather hard to catch 

As he uttered the last words he permitted Henry to rise. 
Ere the youth had quite gained his footing, he gave him a 
violent push and sent him staggering back against the wall. 
When Henry recovered his balance, Gascoyne was standing 
in the open door- way. 

“ Now, lad, are you ready?^"’ said he, a sort of wild smile 
lighting up his face. 

Henry was so taken aback by this conduct, as well as by 
the rough handling which he had just received, that he 
could not collect his thoughts for a few seconds; but when 
Gascoyne nodded gravely to his mother, and walked quietly 
away, saying, Good-bye, Mary,'^ the exasperated youth 
darted through the door-way like an arrow. 

If Henry Stuart^s rush may be compared to the flight of 
an arrow from a bow, not less appropriately may Gascoyne^s 
bound be likened to the leap of the bolt from a cross-bow. 
The two men sprung over the low fences that surrounded 
the cottage, leaped the rivulet that brawled down its steep 


150 GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. 

course behind it, and coursed uj) the hill like mountain 
hares. 

The last that Widow Stuart saw of them, as she gazed 
eagerly from the door-way of the hut, was, when Gascoyne'^s 
figure was clearly defined against the sky as he leaped over 
a great chasm in the lava high up the mountain-side. 
Henry followed almost instantly, and then both were hid- 
den from view in the chaos of rocks and gorges that rose 
abo^e the upper line of vegetation. 

It was a long and a severe chase that Henry had under- 
taken, and ably did his fleet foot sustain the credit which 
he had already gained. But Gascoyne’s foot was fleeter. 
Over every species of ground did the sandal- wood trader 
lead the youth that morning. It seemed, in fact, as if a 
spirit of mischief had taken possession of Gascoyne; for his 
usually grave face was lighted up with a mingled expression 
of glee and ferocity. It changed, too, and wore a sad ex- 
pression at times, even when the man seemed to be running 
for his life. 

At last, after running until he had caused Henry to 
show symptoms of fatigue, Gascoyne turned suddenly 
round, and shouting “ Good-bye, Henry, my lad!” went 
straight up the mountain, and disappeared over the divid- 
ing ridge on the summit. 

Henry did not give in. The insult implied in the words 
renewed his strength. He tightened his belt as he ran, and 
rushed up the mountain almost as fast as Gascoyne had 
done; but when he leaped upon the ridge, the fugitive had 
vanished ! 

That he had secreted himself in one of the numerous 
gorges or caves with which the place abounded was quite 
clear; but it was equally clear that no one could track him 
out in such a place unless he were possessed of a dog’s 
nose. The youth did indeed attempt it; but, being con- 
vinced that he was only searching for what could not by 
any possibility be found, he soon gave it up, and returned, 
disconsolate and crest-fallen, to the cottage. 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADER. 


151 


CHAPTER XVIL 

MYSTERIOUS CONSULTATIONS AND PLANS. — GASCOYNE 
1 ASTONISHES HIS FRIENDS, AND MAKES AN UNEX- 
' PECTED CONFESSION. 

“ A PRETTY morning^s worki have made of it, mother," 
said Henry, as he flung himself into a chair in the cottage 
parlor, on his return from the weary and fruitless chase 
which has just been recorded. 

The widow was pale and haggard; but she could not help 
smiling as she observed the look of extreme disappointment 
which rested on the countenance of her son. 

True, Henry," she replied, busying herself in prepar- 
ing breakfast, “you have not been very successful; but 
you made a noble effort. " 

“Pshaw! a noble effort, indeed! Why, the man has 
foiled me in the two things in which I prided myself most 
— wrestling and running. I never saw such a greyhound 
in my life. " 

“He is a giant, my boy; few men could hope to over- 
come him. " 

“ True, as regards wrestling, mother; I am not much 
ashamed of having been beaten by him at that; but run- 
ning — that^s the sore point. Such a weight he is, and yet 
he took the north gully like a wild cat; and you know, 
mother, there are only two. of us in Sandy Cove who can 
go over that gully. Ay, and he went a full yard further 
than ever I did. I measured the leap as I came down. 
Really, it is too bad to have been beaten so completely by a 
man who must be nearly double my age. But, after all, 
the worst of the whole affair is, that a pirate has escaped 
me after I actually had him in my arms! the villain!" 

“ You do not know that he is a villain,^ ^ said the widow 
in a subdued tone. 

“ You are right, mother,^ ^ said Henry, looking up from 
the plate of bacon to which he had been devoting himself 
with much assiduity, and gazing earnestly into his rnother^s 
face — “ you are right; and, do you know, I feel inclined 
to give the fellow the benefit of the doubt; for, to tell you 
the truth, I have a sort of liking for him. If it had not 


152 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADEE. 


been for the way in which he lias treated you, and the sus- 
picious character that he bears, I do believe I should have 
made a friend of him. 

A look of evident pleasure crossed the widow^s face while 
her son spoke; but as that son^s eyes were once more 
riveted on the bacon, which his morning exercise rendered 
peculiarly attractive, he did not observe it. 

Just then the door opened, and Mr. Mason entered. His 
face wore a dreadfully anxious expression. 

“ Ha! I^m glad to see you you, Henry,^^ said he; of 
course you have not caught your man. I have been wait- 
ing anxiously for you to consult about our future proceed- 
ings. It is quite evident that the pirate schooner can not 
be far off. Gascoyne must either have swum ashore, or 
been landed in a boat. In either case the schooner must 
have been within the reef at the time, and there has been 
little wind since the squall blew itself out yesterday.^-’ 

“ Quite enough, however, to blow such a light craft 
pretty far out to sea in a few hours, said Henry, shaking 
his head. 

‘‘ No matter,^ ^ replied Mr. Mason, with a sigh; some- 
thing must be done, at any rate. I have borrowed the 
carpenter ^s small cutter, which is now being put in order 
for a voyage. Provisions and water for a few da^^s are 
already on board, and I have come to ask you to take com- 
mand of her, as you know something of navigation. I will 
go, of course, but will not take any management of the 
little craft, as I know nothing about the working of 
vessels. 

And where do you mean to go?^^ asked Henry. 

That remains to be seen. I have some ideas running 
in my head, of course; but before letting you know them, 
I wish to hear what you would advise.’^ 

‘‘I would advise, in the first place, that you should pro- 
vide one or two thorough sailors to manage the uraft. By 
the way, that reminds me of Bumpus. What of him? 
Where is he? In the midst of all this bustle I have not 
had time for much thought; and it has only just occurred 
to me that if this schooner is really a pirate, and if 
Gascoyne turns out to be Durward, it follows that Bumpus 
is a pirate too, and ought to be dealt with accordingly.*^ 

‘‘ I have thought of that,^" said Mr. Mason, with a per- 
plexed look, “ and intended to speak to you on the subject; 


GASCOYI^E, THE SANDAL-WOOD TEADER. 


153 


but events have crowded so fast upon each other of late 
that it has been driven out of my mind. No doubt, if the 
‘ Foam and the ‘Avenger ^ are one and the same vessel, as 
seems too evident to leave much room for doubt, then 
Burnpus is a pirate; for he does not deny that he was one 
of the crew. But he acts strangely for a pirate. He seems 
as much at his ease amongst us as if he were the most inno- 
cent of men. Moreover, his looks seem to stamp him a 
thoroughly honest fellow. But, alas! one can not depend 
on looks./'’ 

“ But where is the man?^'’ asked Henry. 

“ He is asleep in the small closet off the kitchen,” said 
Mrs. Stuart, “ where he has been lying ever since you re- 
turned from the heathen village. Poor fellow, he sleeps 
heavily, and looks as if he had been hurt during all this 
fighting.'’^ 

“Hurt! say you?” exclaimed Henry, laughing; “it is 
a miracle that he is now alive after the flight he took over 
the' north cliff into the sea.^^ 

“ Flight! over the north cliff!” echoed Mrs. Stuart, in 
surprise. 

“Ay, and a fearful plunge he had.'’^ Here Henry 
detailed poor Jo’s misadventure. “And now,” said he, 
when he had finished, “ I must lock his door and keep him 
in. The settlers have forgotten him in all this turmoil; 
but, depend upon it, if they see him they will string him 
up for a pirate to the first handy branch of a tree, without 
giving him the benefit of a trial; and that would not be 
desirable. ” 

“Yet you would have shot Gasco3me on mere suspicion, 
without a thought of trial or justice,” said Mrs. Stuart. 

“ True, mother; but that was when I was seizing him, 
and in hot blood,” said Henry, in a subdued voice. “ I 
was hasty there, no doubt. Lucky for us both that the 
pistol missed fire.” 

The widow looked as if she were about to reply, but 
checked herself. 

“ Yes,” said Mr. Mason, recurring to the former sub- 
ject; “as we shall be away a few days, we must lock 
Burnpus up to keep him out of harm’s way. Mean- 
while — ” 

The missionary was interrupted here by the sudden 
opening of the door. An exclamation of surprise burst 


154 GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TKADEK. 

from the whole party as they sprung up, for Gascoyne 
strode into the room, locked the door, and taking oufc the 
key handed it to Henry, who stood staring at him in 
speechless amazement. 

‘‘You are surprised to see me appear thus suddenly, 
said he; “ but the fact is that I came here this morning to 
fulfill a duty; and although Master Henry there has hin- 
dered me somewhat in carrying out my good intentions, I 
do not intend to allow him to frustrate me altogether. 

“ I do not mean to make a second attempt, Gascoyne, 
after what has occurred this morning,"’^ said Henry, seat- 
ing himself doggedly on his chair. “ But it would be as 
well that you should observe that Mr. Mason is a stout 
man, and as we have seen, can act vigorously when occasion 
offers. Remember that we are two to one now. ” 

“ There will be no occasion for vigorous action, at least 
as regards me, if you will agree to forget your suspicions 
for a few minutes and listen to what I have got to say. 
Meanwhile, in order to show you how thoroughly in earnest 
I am, and how regardless of my j^ersonal safefy, I render 
myself defenseless — thus, 

Gascoyne pulled a brace of small pistols from their place 
of concealment beneath the breast of his shirt, and drawing 
the knife that hung at his girdle, hurled them all through 
the open window into the garden. He then took a chair, 
planted it in the middle of the room, and sat down. The 
sadness of his deep voice did not change during the re- 
mainder of that interview. The bold look which usually 
characterized this peculiar man had given place to a grave 
expression of humility, which was occasionally varied Dy a 
troubled look. 

“ Before stating what I have come for,^-’ said Gascoyne, 
“ I mean to make a confession. You have been right in 
your suspicions — 1 am Durivard the pirate I Nay, do not 
shrink from me in that way, Mary. I have kept this secret 
from you long, because I feared to lose the old friendship 
that has existed between us since we were children. I haye 
deceived you in this thing only. I have taken advantage 
of your ignorance to make you suppose that I was merely a 
smuggler, and that, in consequence of being an outlaw, it 
was necessary for me to conceal my name and my move- 
ments. You have kept my secret, Mary, and have tried to 
win me back to honest ways; but you little knew the 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. 155 

strength of the net I had wrapped around me. You did 
not know that I was a pirate!’^ 

Gascoyne paused, and bent his head as if in thought. 
The widow sat with clasped hands, gazing at him with a 
look of despair on her pale face. But she did not move or 
speak. The three listeners sat in perfect silence, until the 
pirate chose to continue his confesson. 

“ Yes, I have been a pirate,^" said he; but I have not 
been the villain that men have painted me. He looked 
steadily in the widow s face, as he said these words delib- 
erately. 

Bo not try to palliate your conduct, Gascoyne, said 
Mr. Mason, earnestly. “ The blackness of your sin is too 
great to be deepened or lighted by what men may have said 
of you. You are a pirate. Every 'pirate is a murdererJ^ 
I am not a murderer/^ said Gascoyne, slowly, in re- 
ply, but still fixing his gaze on the widow "'s face, as if he 
addressed himself solely to her. 

“You may not have committed murder with your own 
hand,'^ said Mr. Mason, “ but the man who leads on others 
to commit the crime is a murderer, in the eye of God^s law 
as well as in that of man.'’^ 

“ I never led on men to commit murder,^ ^ said Gascoyne, 
in the same tone, and with the same steadfast gaze. “ This 
hand is free from the stain of human blood. Do you be- 
lieve me, Mary?’^ 

The widow did not answer. She sat like one bereft of 
all power of speech or. motion. 

“I will explain,^^ resumed the pirate captain, drawing a 
long breath, and directing his looks to Henry now: 

“ For reasons which it is not necessary that you should 
know, I resolved some years ago to become a pirate. I had 
been deceived — shamefully deceived and wronged — by 
wealthy and powerful men. I had appealed to the law of 
my country, and the law refused to right me. No, not the 
law, but those who sat on the judgment-seat to pervert the 
law. It matters not now; I was driven mad at the time, 
for the wrong done was not done so much to me as to those 
whom I loved. I vowed that I should be avenged. 

“ I soon found men as mad as myself, who only wanted 
a leader to guide them in order to run full swing to destruc- 
tion. I seized the ‘ Foam, ^ of which schooner I was mate, 
called her the ‘ Avenger,^ and became a pirate. No blood 


156 GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADES. 

was shed wlien I seized the schooner. Before an opportu- 
nity occurred of trying my hand at this new profession, my 
anger had cooled. I repented of what I had done; but I 
was surrounded by men who were more bent on mischief 
than I was. I could not draw back, but I modified my 
plan. I determined to become merely a robber, and use 
the proceeds of my trade to indemnify those to whom in- 
justice had been done. I thought at the time that there 
was some justice in this. I called myself, in jest, a tax- 
gatherer of the sea. I ordered the men aft one day, and 
explained to them my views. I said that I abhorred the 
name and the deeds of pirates; that I would only consent 
to command them if they agreed never to shed human 
blood excepc in fair and open fight. 

‘‘ They liked the idea. There were men among them 
who had never heartily agreed to the seizing of the sch^ooner, 
and who would have left her if I would have allowed them; 
these were much relieved to hear^ my proposal. It was 
fixed that we should rob, but not murder. Miserable fool 
that I was! I thought it was possible to go just so far and 
no further into sin. I did not know at that time the 
strength of the fearful current into which I had plunged. 

“ But we stuck to our principles. We never did commit 
murder. And as our appearance was always sufficient to 
cause the colors of any ship we ever came across to be 
hauled down at once, there has been no occasion for shed- 
ding blood, even in fair and open fight. Do you believe 
me, Mary?’^ said Gascoyne, pausing at this point. 

The widow was still silent; but a slight inclination of her 
head satisfied the pirate, who was about to resume, when 
Mr. Mason said: “ Gascoyne, do you call warfare in the 
cause of robbery by the name of ‘ fair and open fight 

“ No, I do not. Yet there have been great generals and 
admirals in this world who have committed wholesale 
murder in this same cause, and whose names stand high on 
the roll of fame!^^ 

A look of scorn rested on the pirate^ s face as he said this, 
but it passed away quickly. 

‘‘ You tell me that there were some of the men in the 
schooner whom you kept aboard against their will!^^ said 
Mr. Mason. Did it never occur to you, Gascoyne, that 
you may have been the murderer of the souls of these men?^ 

The pirate made no reply for some time, and the troubled. 


s 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. 157 

anxious look that had more than once crossed his face re- 
turned. 

“ Yes/^ said he. at length, 1 have thought of that. 
But it is done now, and can not be undone. I can do no 
more now than give myself up to justice. You see, I have 
thrown away my arms and stand here defenseless. But I 
did not come here to plead for mercy. I came to make to 
you all the reparation I can for the wrong I have done you. 
When that last act is completed, you may do with me what 
you please. I deserve to die, and I care not to live.^'' 

0 Gascoyne! speak not thus!'’^ exclaimed the widow, 
earnestly. “ However much and deeply you have sinned 
against man, if yoii have not taken life you do not deserve 
to die. Besides; there is a way of pardon open to the very 
chief of sinners.'’^ 

‘‘ I know what you mean, Mary, I know what you mean; 
but — well, well, this is neither the time nor place to talk of 
such things. Your little girl, Mr. Mason, is in the hands 
of the pirates. * ■’ 

1 know that, said the missionaiy, wincing as if he 

had received a deep wound; but she is not in your power 
now. ^ ^ * 

Morels the pity; she would have been safer with me 
than Avith my first mate, who is the greatest villain afloat 
on the high seas. He does not like our milk-and-water 
style of robbing. He is an out-and-out pirate in heart, 
and has long &sired to cut my throat. I have to thank 
him for being here to-night. Some of the crew who are 
like himself seized me Avhile I was asleep, bound and 
gagged me, put me into a boat and rowed me ashore; for 
‘we had easily escaped the ‘ Talisman ^ in the squall, and 
doubling on our course, came back here. The mate was 
anxious to clear off old scores by cutting my throat at once, 
and pitching me into the sea. Luckily some of the men, 
not so blood-thirsty as he, objected to this; so I was landed 
and cast loose. 

“ But Avhat of Alice?’^ cried Mr. Mason, anxiously. 
“ How can we save her?^^ 

“By taking my advice,'’^ answered Gascoyne. “You 
have a small cutter at anchor off the creek at the foot of 
the hill. Put a few trusty men aboard of her, and I will 
guide you to the island whither the ‘ Avenger ^ has been 
wont to fly when hard pressed. 


158 GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TEADEK. 

“ But how do you know that Manton will go there in- 
quired Henry, eagerly. 

“ Because he is short of powder, and all our stores are 
concealed there, besides much of our ill-gotten wealth.^'’ 

“ And how can you expect us to put ourselves so com- 
pletely in your power?^^said Mr. Mason. 

Because you 'tmist do so if you would save your child. 
She is safe now, I know, and will be until the ‘ Avenger ^ 
leaves the island where our stores are concealed. If we do 
not save her before that happens, she is lost to you for- 
ever!’^ 

“ That no man can say. She is in the hands of dod,^' 
cried Mr. Mason, fervently. 

True, true,^"" said Gascoyne, musing. ‘‘ But God does 
not work by miracles. We must be up and doing at once. 
I promise you that I shall be faithful, and that, after the 
work is done, I will give myself up to justice.'’^ 

‘‘ May we trust him, mother.^” said Henry. 

‘‘ You may trust him, my son,'’ replied the widow, in 
a tone of decision that satisfied Henry, wliile it called forth 
a look of gratitpde from the pirate. 

The party now proceeded to arrange the details of their 
plan for the rescue of Alice and her companions. These 
were speedily settled, and Henry rose to go and put them 
in train. He turned the key of the door, and was on the 
point of lifting the latch, when this was done for him by 
some one on the outside. He had just time to step back, 
when the door flew open, and he stood face to face with 
Hugh Barnes the cooper. 

“ Have you heard the news, Henry? — hallo I" 

This abrupt exclamation was caused by the sight of Gas- 
coyne, who rose quietly the moment he heard the door 
open, and, turning his back toward it, walked slowly into 
a small apartment that opened off the widow's parlor, and 
shut the door. 

“ I say, Henry, who's that big fellow?" said the cooper, 
casting a suspicious glance toward the little room into 
which he had disappeared. 

He is a friend of mine," replied Mrs. Stuart, rising 
hastily, and welcoming her visitor. 

“ Humph I it's well he's friend said the man, as he 
took a chair; I shouldn't like to have him for an enemy. " 


GASCOYls^E, THE SAHDAL-WOOD TRADER. 159 

But what is the news you were so anxious to tell us?^^ 
in(juired Henry. 

‘ That Gascoyne, the pirate captain, has been seen on 
the island by some of the women, and there ^s a regular 
hunt organizing. Will you go with us?^^ 

'‘I have more important work to do, Hugh, replied 
Henry; besides, I want you to go with me on a hunt 
which I^’ll tell you about if you ^11 come with me to the 
creek. 

‘‘ By all means. Come along. 

Henry and the cooper at once left the cottage. The lat- 
ter was let into the secret, and prevailed on to form one of 
the crew of the ‘ ‘ Wasp, as the little cutter was named. 
In the course of the afternoon everything was in readiness. 
Gascoyne waited till the dusk of evening, and then em- 
barked along with Ole Thorwald; that stout individual 
having insisted on being one of the party, despite the re- 
monstrances of Mr. Mason, who did not like to leave the 
settlement, even for a brief j^eriod, so completely deprived 
of all its leading men. But Ole entertained a suspicion 
that Gascoyne intended to give them the slip; and having 
privately made up his mind to prevent this, he was not to 
be denied. 

The men who formed the crew — twelve in number — were 
selected from among those natives and settlers who were 
known never to have seen the pirate cajDtain. They were 
chosen with a view to their fighting qualities; for Gas- 
coyne and Henry were sufficient for the management of 
the little craft. There were no large guns on board, but 
all the men were well armed with cutlasses, muskets, and 
pistols. 

Thus equipped, the “ Wasp stood out to sea with a 
light breeze, just as the moon rose on the coral reef and 
cast a shower of sparkling silver across the bay. 


CHAPTER XXL 

A TERRIBLE DOOM FOR AN INNOCENT MAN. 

So, youTe to be hanged for a pirate, Jo Bumpus, ye 
are. That^s pleasant to think of, anyhow. 

Such was the remark which our stout seaman addressed 
to himself when he awoke on the second morning after the 


160 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADER. 


departure of the ‘‘ Wasp."" If the thought was really as 
pleasant as he asserted it to be, his visage must have been a 
bad index to the state of his mind; for at that particular 
moment Jo looked uncommonly miserable. 

The wonted good-humored expression of his countenance 
had given place to a gaze of stereotyped surprise and so- 
lemnity. Indeed, Bumpus seemed to have parted with 
much of his reason, and all of his philosophy; for he could 
say nothing else during at least half an hour after awaking 
except the phrase, So you"re going to be hanged for a 
pirate. "" His comments on the phrase were, however, a 
little varied, though always brief; such as “Wot a sell! 
Who"d ha" thought it! It"s a dream, it is — an "orrible 
dream! / don"t believe it; who does? Wot "11 your poor 
mother say?"" — and the like. 

Bumpus had, unfortunately, good ground for making 
this statement. 

After the .cutter sailed it was discovered that Bumpus 
was concealed in Mrs. Stuart" s cottage. This discovery 
had been the result of the seaman "s own recklessness and 
indiscretion; for when he ascertained that he was to be kept 
a prisoner in the cottage until the return of the “ Wasp,"" 
he at once made up his mind to submit with a good grace 
to what could hot be avoided. In order to j)rove that he 
was by no means cast down, as well as to lighten the tedium 
of his confinement, Jo entertained himself by singing 
snatches of sea-songs; such as, “ My tight little craft,"" 
“ A life on the stormy sea,"" “ Oh, for a draught of the 
howling blast!"" etc.; all of which he delivered in a bass 
voice so powerful that it caused the rafters of the widow"s 
. cottage to ring again. 

These melodious, not to say thunderous sounds, also 
caused the ears of a small native youtli to tingle with curi- 
osity. This urchin crept on his brown little knees under 
the window of Bumpus"s apartment, got on his brown and 
dirty little tiptoes, placed his brown little hands on the sill, 
hauled his brown and half-naked little body up by sheer 
force of muscle, and peeped into the room with his large 
and staring brown eyes, the whites of which were displayed 
to their full extent. 

Jo was in the middle of an enthusiastic “Oh!"" when the 
urchin"s head appeared. Instead of expressing his pas- 
sionate desire for a “ draught of the howling blast,"" he 


OtASCOYKE, the sahdal-wood tradek. 161 

prolonged the ‘‘ Oh!^^ into a hideous yell, and thrust his 
blazing face close to the window so suddenly that the boy 
let go his hold, fell backward, and rolled head over heels 
into a ditch, out of which he scrambled with violent haste, 
and ran with the utmost possible precipitancy to his native 
home on the sea-shore. 

Here he related what he had s^en to his father. The 
father went and looked in upon Jo^’s solitude. He hap- 
pened to have seen Bumpus during the great fight, and 
knew him to be one of the pirates. The village rose en 
masse. Some of the worst characters in it stirred up tlie 
rest, went to the widow ^s cottage, and demanded that the 
person of the pirate should be delivered up. 

The widow objected. The settlers insisted. The widow 
protested. The settlers threatened force. Upon this the 
widow reasoned with them; besought them to remember 
that the missionary would be back in a day or two, and 
that it would be well to have his advice before they did any- 
thing, and finally agreed to give up her charge on receiv- 
ing a promise that he should have a fair trial. 

Bumpus was accordingly bound with ropes, led in tri- 
umph through the village, and placed in a strong wooden 
building which was used as the jail of the place. 

The trial that followed was a mere mockery. The lead- 
ing spirits of it were those who had been styled by Mr. 
Mason, ‘‘ enemies within the camp.'’'’ They elected them- 
selves to the offices of prosecutor and judge, as well as tak- 
ing the trouble to act the part of jurymen and witnesses. 
Poor John Bumpus'^s doom was sealed before the trial be- 
gan. They had prejudged the case, and only went through 
the form to ease their own consciences and to fulfill their 
promise to the widow. 

It was in vain that Bumpus asserted, with a bold, honest 
countenance, that he was not a pirate, that he never had 
been, and never would be a pirate; that he didnT believe 
the “ Foam was a pirate — though he was free to confess 
its crew wos bad enough for anything ahnost;^^ that he 
had been hired in South America (where he had been ship- 
wrecked) by Captain Gascoyne, the sandal-wood trader; 
that he had made the voyage straight from that coast to 
this island without meeting a single sail; and that he had 
never seen a shot fired or a cutlass drawn aboard the 
schooner. 


162 GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TKADER. 

To all this there was but one coarsely expressed answer 
• — “ It is a lie!^^ Jo had no proof to give of the truth of 
what he said, so he was condemned to be hanged by the 
neck till he should be dead; and as his judges were afraid 
that the return of the Wasp might interfere with their 
proceeding, it was arranged that he should be executed on 
the following day at noon. 

It must not be imagined, that, in a Christian village 
such as we have described, there was no one who felt that 
this trial was too hastily gone into, and too violently con- 
ducted. But those who were inclined to take a merciful 
view of the case, and who plead for delay, were chiefly nat- 
ives, while the violent party was composed of most of the 
ill-disposed European settlers. 

The natives had been so much accustomed to put confi- 
dence in the wisdom of the white men since their conversion 
to Christianity, that they felt unable to cope with them on 
this occasion; so that Bumpus, after being condemned, 
was led away to his prison, and left alone to his own re- 
flections. 

It chanced that there was one friend left, unintentional- 
ly, in the cell with the condemned man. This was none 
other than our friend Toozle, the mass of ragged door-mat 
on which Alice doted so fondly. This little dog had, dur- 
ing the course of events which have taken so long to re- 
count, done nothing worthy of being recorded. He had, 
indeed, been much in every one’s way, when no one had 
had time or inclination to take notice of him. He had, 
being an affectionate dog, and desirous of much sympathy, 
courted attention frequently, and had received many kicks 
and severe rebuffs for his pains; and he had also, being a 
tender-hearted dog, howled dreadfully when he lost his 
young mistress; but he had not in any way promoted the 
interests of humanity, or advanced the ends of justice. 
Hence our long silence in regard to him. 

Recollecting that he had witnessed evidences of a friend- 
ly relation subsisting between Alice and Bumpus, Toozle 
straightway sought to pour the overflowing love and sor- 
row of his large little heart in to the bosom of that supposed 
pirate. His advances were well received, and from that 
hour he followed the seaman like his shadow. He shared 
his prison with him, trotted behind him when he walked 
up and down his room in the widow’s cottage; lay down 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. 1G3 

at his feet when he rested; looked up inqiihingly in his 
face when he paused to meditate; whined and wagged his 
stump of a tail when he was taken notice of, and lay down 
to sleep in deep humility when he was neglected. 

Thus it came to pass fhat Toozle attended the trial of 
Bumpus, entered his cell along with him, slept with him 
during the night, accompanied him to the gallows in the 
morning, and sat under him when they were adjusting the 
noose, looking up with feelings of unutterable dismay, as 
clearly indicated by the lugubrious and woe-begone cast of 
his ragged countenance. But we are anticipating. 

It was on the morning of his execution that Bumpus sat 
on the edge of his hard pallet, gazed at his manacled 
wrists, and gave vent to the sentiments set down at the be- 
ginning of tliis chapter. 

Toozle sat down at his feet, looking up in liis face sym- 
pathetically. 

‘‘ No, I donT believe it’s possible,” said Bumpus, for at 
least the hundredth time that morning. “ It’s a joke; 
that’s wot it is. Ain’t it, Toozle, my boy?” 

Toozle whined, wagged his tail, and said, as plainly as if 
he had spoken : 

“Yes, of course it is — an uncommonly bad joke, no 
doubt; but a joke, undoubtedly; so keep up your heart, 
my man. ” 

“Ah! you’re a funny dog,” continued Bumpus; “but 
you don’t know what it is to be hanged, my boy. Hanged! 
why it’s agin all laws o’ justice, moral an’ otherwise, it is. 
But I’m dreamin’; yes, it’s dreamin’ I am; but I don’t 
think I ever did dream that I thought I was dreamin’ an’ 
yet wasn’t quite sure. Really, it’s perplexin’ to say the 
least on it. Ain’t it Toozle?” 

Toozle wagged his tail. 

“ Ah, here comes my imaginary jailer to let me out o’ 
this here abominably real-lookin’ imaginary lock-up. Hang 
Jo Bumpus! — why, it’s — ” 

Before Jo could find words sufficiently strong to express 
his opinion of such a murderous intention, the door opened, 
and a surly-looking man — a European settler — entered 
with his breakfast. This meal consisted of a baked bread- 
fruit and a can of water. 

“ Ha! you’ve come to let me out, have you?” cried Jo, 


164 GASCOYKE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TKADER. 

ill a tone of forced pleasantry, wliicli was anything but 
cheerful. 

Have I though I'’ said the man, setting down the food 
on a small . deal-table that stood at the head of the bed- 
stead; “ don^t think it, my man; your timer’s up in an- 
other two hours. Hallo! where got ye the dog.^^^ 

It came in with me last night — to keep me company, 
I fancy, which is more than the human dogs o’ this mur- 
derin’ place had the civihty to do. ’ ’ 

If it had know’d you was a murderin’ pirate,” retorted 
the jailer, ‘‘it would ha’ thought twice before it would 
ha’ chose you for a comrade. 

“ Come, now,” said Bumpus, in a remonstrative tone; 
“ you don’t really b’lieve I’m a pirate, do you?” 

“ In coorse I do.” 

“ Well, now, that’s ’xtror’nary. Hoes everybody else 
think that too?” 

“Everybody.” 

“ An’ am I really goin’ to be hanged?” 

“ Till you’re dead as mutton.” 

“That’s entertainin’, ain’t it, Toozle?” cried poor 
Bumpus, with a laugh of desperation; for he found it 
utterly impossible to persuade himself to believe in the 
reality of his awful position. 

As he said nothing more, the jailer went away, and Bum- 
pus, after heaving two or three very deep sighs, attempted 
to partake of his meager breakfast. The effort was a vain 
one. The bite stuck in his throat; so he washed it down 
with a gulp of wafer, and, for the first time in his life, 
made up his mind to go without his breakfast. 

A little before twelve o’clock the door again opened, and 
the surly jailer entered, bearing a halter, and accompanied 
by six stout men. The irons were now removed from 
Bumpus ’s wrists, and his arms pinioned behind his back. 
Being almost stupefied with amazement at his position, he 
submitted without a struggle. 

“ I say, friends,” he at last exclaimed, “ would any 
amount of oaths took before a magistrate convince ye that 
I’m not a pirate, but a true-blue seaman?” 

“ If you were to swear from tliis time till doomsday it 
would make no difference. You admit that you were one 
of the ‘ Foam’s ’ crew. We now know that the ‘ Foam ’ 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADEE. 165 

and the ‘ Avenger ^ are the same schooner. Birds of a 
feather flock together. A pirate would swear anything to 
save his life. Come — timers up.^^ 

Bumpus bent his head for a minute. The truth forced 
itself upon him now in all its dread reality. But no un- 
manly terrors fllled his breast at that moment. The fear 
of man or of violent death was a sensation which the sea- 
man never knew. The feeling of the huge injustice that 
was about to be done filled him with generous indignation; 
the blood rushed to his temples, and, with a bound like a 
tiger, he leaped out of the jailer^’s grasp, hurling him to 
the ground in the act. 

With the strength almost of a Samson he wrestled with 
his cords for a few seconds; but they were new and strong. 
He failed to burst them. In another moment he was over- 
powered by the six men who guarded him. True to his 
principles, he did his utmost to escape. Strong in the faith 
that while there is life there is hope, he did not cease to 
struggle, like a chained giant, until he was placed under 
the limb of the fatal tree which had been selected, and 
round which an immense crowd of natives and white set- 
tlers had gathered. 

During the previous night the Widow Stuart had striven 
to save the man whom she knew to be honest; for Gascoyne 
had explained to her all about his being engaged in his 
service. But those io whom she appealed, even on her 
knees, were immovable. They considered the proof of the 
man^s guilt quite conclusive, and regarded the widow^s in- 
tercession as the mere weakness of a tender-hearted 
woman. 

On the following morning, and again beside the fatal 
tree itself, the widow pleaded for the man^s life with all her 
powers of eloquence; but in vain. When all hope appeared 
to have passed away, she could not stand to witness so hor- 
rible a murder. She fled to her cottage, and, throwing 
herself on her bed, burst into an agony of tears and 
prayer. 

But there were some among the European settlers there 
who, now that things had cSne to a point, felt ill at ease, 
and would fain have washed their hands of the whole 
aft'air. Others there were who judged the man from his 
countenance and his acts, not from circumstances. These 


16(> GASCOYKE, THE SANDAL-WOOD THADEK. 

remonstrated even to the last, and advised delay. But the 
half-dozen who were set upon the man^s death — not to 
gratify a thirst for blood, but to execute due justice on a 
pirate whom they abhorred — were influential and violent 
men. They silenced all opposition at last, and J ohn Bum- 
pus finally had the noose j)ut round his neck. 

‘‘ 0 Susan! Susan cried the poor man, in an agony of 
intense feeling, “ it^s little ye thought your Jo would come 
to such an end as this when ye last sot eyes on him — an^ 
sweet blue eyes they wos, too!^^ 

There was something ludicrous as well as pathetic in this 
cry. It did more for him than the most eloquent pleading 
could have done. Man, in a crowd, is an unstable being. 
At any moment he will veer right round and run in an 
opposite direction. The idea that the condemned man had 
a Susan who would mourn over his untimely end touched 
a cord in the hearts of many among the crowd. The 
reference to her sweet blue eyes at such a moment raised a 
smile, and an extremely dismal but opportune howl from 
poor Toozle raised a laugh. 

Bumpus started, and looked sternly on the crowd. 

“You may think me a pi rate, said he; “ but I know 
enough of the feelings of honest men to expect no mercy 
from those wot can laugh at a fellow-creetur in such an 
hour. You had better get the murder over as soon as ye 
can. I am ready — Stay! one moment more. I had almost 
forgot it. There^s a letter here that I want one o^ you to 
take charge of. It’s the last I ever got from my Susan; 
an’ if I had taken her advice to let alone havin’ to do with’ 
all sandal- wood traders, I’d never ha’ bin in such a fix as I 
am this day. I want it sent back to her, with my blessin’ 
and a lock o’ my hair. Is there an honest man among ye 
who’ll take in hand to do this for me?” 

As he spoke, a young man, in a costume somewhat re- 
sembling that of a sailor, pushed through the crowd, leaped 
upon the deal-table on which Jo stood,, and removed the 
noose from his neck. 

An exclamation of an^np; burst from those who sur- 
rounded the table; but a'soiiHd something like applause 
broke from the crowd, and restrained any attempt at vio- 
lence. The young man at the same time held up his hand, 
and asked leave to address them. 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. 


167 


Ay! ay! let^s hear what he has got to say. That’s it: 
speak up, Dan!” 

The youth, whose dark olive complexion proclaimed him 
to be a half-caste, and whose language showed that he had 
received at least the rudiments of education, stretched out 
his hand and said: 

“ Friends, I do not stand here to interfere with justice. 
Those who seek to give a pirate his just reward do well. 
But there has been doubt in the minds of some that this 
man may not be a pirate. His own word is of no value; 
but if I can bring forward anything to show that perhaps 
his word is true, then we have no right to hang him till we 
have given him a longer trial. ’ ’ 

Hear! hear!” from the white men in the crowd, and 
“ Ho! ho!” from the natives. 

Meanwhile the young man, or Dan, as some one called 
him, turned to Bumpus and asked for the letter to which 
he had referred. Being informed that it was in the inside 
pocket of his jacket, the youth put his hand in and drew it 
forth. 

May I read it? Your life may depend on what I find 

“ Sartinly^by all manner of means,” replied Jo, not a 
little surprised at the turn affairs were taking. 

Dan opened and perused the epistle for a few minutes, 
during which intense silence was maintained in the crowd, 
as if they expected to /iear the thoughts of the young man 
as they passed through his brain. 

“ Ha! I thought so,” exclaimed Dan, looking up and 
again addressing the crowd. ‘‘ At the trial yesterday you 
heard this man say that he was engaged at San Francisco 
by Gascoyne on the 12th of April last, and that he believed 
the schooner to be a sandal- wood trader when he shij^ped.” 

“ Yes, yes — ho!” from the crowd. 

‘‘ If this statement of his be true, then he was not a 
pirate when he shipped, and he has not had much time to 
become one between that time and this. The letter which 
I hold in my hand proves the truth of this statement. It 
is dated San Francisco, 11th April, and is written in a 
female hand. Listen — I will read it; and you shall judge 
for yourselves. ” 

The young man then read the following letter, which. 


108 GASCOYKE, THE SA NEAL- WOOD TRADER. 

being a peculiar as well as an interesting specimen of a 
love-letter, we give verbatim et liberatim : 

‘ ‘ Peelers farm near 

^‘Por Sanfransko Aprile 11. 

John bumpuss, 
aboord the Schooner fome 

“ my darlin Jo, 

‘‘ever sins you ..owld me yisterday that youd bin an 
gaged yerself into the fome, my mind has been Onaisy. 
Ye no, darlint, from the our ye cald me yer own Susan, 
in dare county. More betoken, iv bin onaisy about ye yer 
so bowld and Rekles. but this is wurst ov all. iv no 
noshun o them sandle-wood skooners. the Haf ov thems 
pirits an The other hafs no better, whats wus is that my 
owld master was drownded in wan, or out o wan, but shure 
its All the Saim. down he wint an that wos the Endd. 

“ now Deer jo dont go to say in that skooner i beseech 
ye, jo. ye towld me that ye liked the looks o the cappen 
and haited the looks o the Krew. Now deer, take warnin 
think ov me. tliink ov the words in the coppie book weev 
writ so often together at owld makmahons skool, eevil 
cmunishakens Krupt yer maners, i misrember it, but ye no 
wot id be sa3dn^ to ye. 

“ o jo Dont go, but cum an see me as soon as iver ye 
can 

“ yours til deth. 

“ SUSAH. 

“ p. s. the piggs is quite livly but ther not so hansum 
beer as in the owld country. doiiT forgit to rite to your 
susan.-’^ 

No one can conceive the indignation that swelled the 
broad chest of honest John Bumpus when he listened to 
the laughter with which some parts of this letter were re- 
ceived. 

“ Now," said Dan, “ could any man want better proof 
than this that John Bumpus is not a pirate 

This question was answered by a perfect yell from the 
crowd. 

“ Set him free! cut his cords cried a voice. 

“ Stop, friends, cried a big, coarse-lookiiig man, leap- 
ing on the table and jostling Dan out of the way. “ ISiot 
quite so fast. I doiPt pretend to be a learned feller, and I 


GASCOYITE^ THE SANDAL- WOOD TEA DEE. 169 


can^t make a speech with a buttery tongue like Dan here. 
But wot I%^e got to say is — Justice forever 

“ Hurrah!^'’ from some of the wild spirits of the crowd. 

‘‘ Go on, Burke/^ from others. 

“ Yes, wot I say is — Justice forever! Fair play an^ no 
favor: wot I say!^^ 

Another cheer greeted the bold assertion of these noble 
sentiments. 

‘‘ Now, here it is/^ continued Burke, becoming much 
excited, wot^s to hinder that there letter bein^ a forgery? 
— ay, tliat^s the word, a forgery?’/ (Hear! hear!) “got up 
a purpose to bamboozle us chaps that ain’t lawyers. D’ye 
see?” 


Burke glanced at Dan, and smote his thigh triumphant- 
ly as he said this. 

“ It does not look like a forgery,” said Dan holding up 
the letter and pointing to the writing. “ I leave it to 
yourselves to say if it sounds like a forgery — ” 

“ I don’t care a farthin’ dip for yer looks and sounds” 
cried Burke, interrupting the other. “No man is goin’ 
for to tell me that anybody can trust to looks and sounds. 
Why, I’ve know’d the greatest villain that ever chewed 
the end of a smuggled cigar look as innocent as the babe 
unborn. An’ is there a man here wot’ll tell me he hasn’t 
often an’ over again mistook the crack of a big gun for a 
clap o’ thunder?” 

This was received with much approval by the crowd, 
which had evidently more than half-forgotten the terrible 
purpose for which it had assembled there, and was now 
much interested in what bade fair to be a- keen dispute. 
When the noise abated, Dan raised his voice and said : 

“ If Burke had not interrupted me, I was going to have 
said that another thing which proves the letter to be no 
forgery is, that the postmark of San Francisco is on the 
back of it, with the date all right.” 

This statement delighted the crowd immensely, and 
caused Burke to look disconcerted for a few seconds; he 
rallied, however, and returned to the charge. 

“ Postmarks! wot do I care for postmarks? Can’t a 
man forge a postmark as easy as any other mark?” 

“ Ah! that’s true,” from a voice in the crowd. 

“ Not so easily, as any other mark,” retorted Dan; 
“ for it’s made with a kind of ink that’s not sold in shops. 


170 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOI) TRADEK. 


Everything goes to prove that the letter is no forgery. But, 
Mr. Burke, will you answer me this? If it ivas a forgery, 
got up for the purpose of saving this many’s life, at what 
time was it forged ? for Bumpus could not know that he 
would ever need such a letter until yesterday afternoon, 
and between that time and this there was but little time to 
forge a letter from San Francisco, postmark and all, and 
make it soiled and worn at the edges like an old letter. 

[‘ Hear!’ and sensation.] “More than that,” cried Dan, 
waxing eager and earnest, “if it was a forgery, got up for 
the purpose, lohy was it not produced at the trial [“ Hear! 
hear!” and cheers!] “And, last of all, why, if tliis forgery 
was so important to him, did John Bumpus forget all about 
it until he stood on this table; ay, until the rope was round 
his neck P’ 

A perfect storm of cheers and applause followed this last 
sentence, in tlie midst of which there were cries of “ You’re 
floored, Burke! Hurrah for Bumpus! Cut the roj)es!” 

But although John’s life was now safe, his indignation 
at Susan’s letter having been laughed at was not altogether 
allayed. 

“ I’ll tell ye wot it is,” said he, the instant there was a 
lull in the uproar of voices. “ If you think that I’ll stand 
here and see my Susan’s letter insulted before my eyes, 
you’re very far out o’ your reckoning. Just cut them 
ropes, an^ put any two o’ yer biggest men, black or white, 
before me, an’ if I don’t show them a lot o’ new stars as 
hasn’t been seed in no sky wotiver since Adam was a little 
boy, my name’s — ” 

tip to this point Jo was heard; but the conclusion of his 
defiance was drowned in roars of laughter. 

“ Cut the ropes!” shouted the crowd. 

Dan drew a clasp-knife from his pocket, and with one 
stroke set Bumpus free. 

“ Shoulder high!” yelled a voice; “ hurrah!” 

A wild rush was made at the table. Jo’s executioners 
were overturned and trampled under foot, and the table, 
witli himself and his young advocate sprawling on it, was 
raised on the shoulders of the crowd and borne off in tri- 
umph. 

Half an hour later, Bumpus was set down at the widow’s 
door. Mrs. Stuart received him with a scream of surprise 
and joy, for she had given him up as a lost man. 


CtASCOYKE, the sakhal-woob trabeb. 171 

Kow, then, Mrs. Stuart, said Jo, throwing himself 
on a chair and wiping the perspiration from his forehead, 
“ don^t make such a fuss about me, like a good creetur. 
But do get me a bit o^ bacon, and let^s be thankful that 
Fm here to eat it. Cut it fat, Mrs. Stuart; cut it fat; for 
it^s wonderful wot a appetite I\e got after such a morn- 
ing’s work as I’ve gone through. Well, well, after all that' 
yer friends have said of ye, Jo Bumpus, I do believe that 
yer not born to be hanged!” 


CHAPTER XXIL 

THE RENBEZVOUS. — AH EPISOBE. — PECULIAR CIRCUM- 
STAHCES. — OTHER MATTERS. 

About five or six days’ sail from the scene of our tale 
there lies one of those small rocks or islets with which the 
breast of the Pacific is in many places thickly studded. 

It is a lonely coral isle, far removed from any of its fel- 
lows, and presenting none of those grand features which 
characterize the island on which the settlement of Sandy 
Cove was situated. In no part does it rise more than thirty 
feet above the level of the sea; in most places it is little 
more than a few feet above it. The coral reefs around it 
are numerous; and as many of them rise to within a few 
feet of the surface, the navigation in its neighborhood is 
dangerous in the extreme. 

At the time of which we write, the vegetation of the isle 
was not very luxuriant. Only a few clusters of cocoa-nut 
palms grew here and there over its otherwise barren sur- 
face. In this respect it did not resemble most of the other 
islands of the Pacific. Owing partly to its being out of the 
usual course of ships, and partly to the dangerous reefs 
already referred to, the spot was never approached by ves- 
sels, or, if a ship happened to be driven toward it, she got 
out of its way as speedily as possible. 

This was the rendezvous of the pirates, and was named 
by them the Isle of Palms. 

Here, in caverns hollowed out of the coral rock, Gas- 
coyne had been wont to secrete such goods and stores as 
were necessary for the maintenance of his piratical course 
of life; and to this lone spot did Man ton convey his pris- 


172 GASCmNE, THE SAKDAL-WOOD TKADER. 

oners after getting rid of his former commander. Toward 
this spot, also, did Gascoyne turn the prow of the cutter 
‘‘ Wasp in pursuit of his mutinous first mate. 

Man ton, for reasons best known to himself (certainly not 
from goodness of heart), was kind to his cai^tives to the 
extent of simply letting them alone. He declined to hold 
any intercourse whatever with Captain Montague, and for- 
bade him to speak with the men upon pain of being con- 
fined to his berth. The young people were allowed to do 
as they pleased, so long as they kept out of the way. 

On reaehing the Isle of Palms the pirates at once pro- 
ceeded to take in those stores of which they stood m need. 
The harbor into which the schooner ran was a narrow bay, 
on the shores of which the palm-trees grew sufficiently high 
to prevent her masts being seen from the other side of the 
island. Here the captives were landed; but as Man ton 
did not wish them to witness his proceedings, he sent them 
across the islet under the escort of a party who conveyed 
them to the shores of a small bay. On the rocks in this 
bay lay the wreck of what once had been a noble ship. It 
was now completely dismantled. Her hull was stove in by 
the rocks. Her- masts and yards were gone, with the ex- 
ception .of their stumps and the lower part of the main- 
mast, to which the mainyard still hung with a ragged por- 
tion of the mainsail attached to it. 

A feeling of depression filled the breast of Montague and 
his companions as they came in sight of this wreck, and 
the former attempted to obtain some information in regard 
to her from his conductors; but they sternly bade him ask 
no questions. Some time afterward he heard the story of 
this vessePs fate. We shall record it here. 

Hot many months prior to the date of our tale, the 
‘ ‘ Avenger happened to have occasion to run down to the 
Isle of Palms. Gascoyne was absent at the time. He had 
been landed at Sandy Cove, and had ordered Manton to go 
to the rendezvous for supplies. On nearing the isle a storm 
arose. The wind was fair, however, and the schooner ran 
for her destination under close-reefed sails. Just before 
reaching it they fell in with a large full-rigged ship, which, 
on sighting the schooner, ran up her flag half-mast high, 
as a signal of distress. She had sprung a leak, and was 
sinking. 

Had the weather been calmer, the pirates would have at 


GASCOYHE, the SAKDAL-WOOT) trader. 173 

once boarded the vessel and carried, her as a prize into the 
harbor; but the sea ran so high that this was impossible. 
Manton therefore ran down as close to the side of the mer- 
chantman (for such she seemed to be) as enabled him to 
hail her through the speaking-trumpet. When sufficiently 
near he demanded her name and destination. 

“ The ‘ Brilliant/ from Liverpool, bound for the Sand- 
wich Islands. And you?^^ 

“ The ‘ Foam ^ — ^from the Feejees — for Calcutta. WhaFs 
wrong with you?'’^ 

“ Sprung a leak; is there anchorage in the bay?^'’ sung 
out the captain of the merchantman. 

“ No; iFs too shoal for a big ship. Bear away round to 
the other side of the island. YouTl find gx)od holding- 
ground there. ITl show you the way.^^ 

The pirate accordingly conducted the unsuspecting 
stranger away from the only safe harbor in the island, and 
led him through a complete labyrinth of reefs and rocks, 
to the bay on the other side, in which he knew full well 
there was scarcely enough of water to float his own little 
schooner. 

With perfect confidence in his guide, the unfortunate 
captain of the merchantman followed until both vessels 
were in the comparatively still and sheltered waters of the 
bay. Here Manton suddenly put down the helm, brought 
his vessel up to the wind, and allowed the stranger to pass in. 

“ Hold on about sixty fathoms further, and then let go 
your anchor, he shouted, as the ship went steadily on to 
her doom. 

“Ay, ay, and thank ^ee,^^ cried the captain, who had 
already taken in nearly all sail and was quite prepared to 
anchor. 

But Manton knew that before twenty fathoms more 
should be passed over by the ship she would run straight on 
a coral reef, which rose to within about five feet of the 
surface of the sea. In an exposed place this reef would 
have formed a line of breakers; but in its sheltered position 
the water gave no indication of its existence. The gale, 
tliough not blowing direct into the bay, entered it in a 
sufficiently straight line to carry the ship onward with great 
speed, notwithstanding the reduction made in her canvas. 

‘ ‘ Stand by to let go the anchor, cried her captain. 

That was his last order. Scarcely had the words passed 


174 GASCOYl^'R, THE SANHAL-WOOT) TKAHEK. 

liis lips when the ship struck with a shock that caused her 
to quiver like a leaf from stem to stern. All the top-masts 
with their yards and rigging went over the side, and in one 
instant the fine vessel was a total wreck. 

The rest of the story is soon told. The pirates, showing 
their true colors, ran alongside and took possession with- 
out opposition; for the crew of the merchantman were so 
overwhelmed by the suddenness and appalling nature of 
the calamity that had befallen them that they had no heart 
to resist. 

Of course it was out of the question that the crew of the 
“ Brilliant could be allowed to remain on the island. 
Some of the pirates suggested that they should be put on a 
raft, towed to leeward of the island, and, when out of sight 
of it, be cast adrift to float about until they should be picked 
up or get blown on one of the numerous islands that lay to 
the southward of the rendezvous. Manton and Scraggs 
advocated this plan, but the better-disposed among the 
men protested against such needless cruelty, and suggested 
that it would be better, to put them into the long-boat of 
the ship, and bandage their eyes, then tow them out of 
sight of land, and cast them loose to steer where they 
pleased. 

This plan was adopted and carried into execution. Then 
the pirates returned, and at. their leisure unloaded and se- 
cure the cargo of their prize. It was richer than they had 
anticipated, beijig a miscellaneous carge of valuable com- 
modities for the trading stores of some of the South Sea 
merchants and settlers. 

The joy felt by the pirates on making this discovery was 
all the benefit that was ever derived from these ill-gotten 
gains by any one of those who had a hand in that dastardly 
deed. Long before they had an opportunity of removing 
the goods thus acquired, the career of the “ Avenger had 
terminated. But we must not anticipate our story. 

On a green knoll near the margin of this bay, and in full 
view of the wreck, a rude tent or hut was constructed by 
the pirates out of part of an old sail which hcid been washed 
ashore from the wreck, and some broken spars. A small 
cask of biscuit and two or three blankets were placed in it, 
and here the captives were left to do as they pleased until 
such time as Manton chose to send for them. The only 
piece of advice that was given to them by their surly jailer 


GASCOYKE, THE SAKDAL-WOOD TKAHEK. 175 

was, that they should not on any pretense whatever cross 
the island to the bay in which the schooner lay at anchor. 

“ If ye do,’^ said the liian who was the last of the party 
to quit them, ‘‘ ye ^11 wish ye hadn^t — that^s all.' Take my 
advice, and keep yer kooriosity in yer breeches-pockets. 

AVith this caution they were left to their own devices and 
meditations. 

It was a lovely, calm evening, at sunset, when our four 
unfortunate friends were thus left alone in these strange 
circumstances. The effect of their forlorn condition was 
very different on each. ' Poopy flung herself down on the 
ground, inside the tent, and began to sob; Alice sat down 
beside her, and wept silently; whilst Montague, forgetting 
his own sorrows in his pity for the poor young creatures 
who had been thus strangely linked to him in affliction, sat 
down opposite to Alice, and sought to comfort her. 

Will Oorrie, feeling that he could do nothing to cheer 
his companions in the circumstances, and being unable to 
sit still, rose, and going out at the end of the tent, both 
sides of which were open, stood leaning on a pole, and con- 
templated the scene before him. 

In a small creek, or indentation of the shore, close to 
the knoll on which the tent stood, two of the pirates were 
working at a boat which lay there. Oorrie could not at 
first understand what they were about; but he was soon 
enlightened; for, after hauling the boat as far out of the 
water as they could, they left her there, and followed their 
comrades to the other side of the island, carr 3 dng the oars 
along with them. 

The spirit that dwelt in Corners breast was a very 
peculiar one. Up to this point in his misfortunes the poor 
boy had been subdued — overwhelmed by the suddenness 
and the terrible nature of the calamity that had befallen 
him, or, rather, that had befallen Alice; for, to do him 
justice, he only thought of her. Indeed, he carried this 
feeling so far that he had honestly confessed to himself, in 
a mental soliloquy, the night on which he had been capt- 
ured, he did not care one straw for himself, or Poopy, or 
Captain Montague; that his whole and sole distress of mind 
and body was owing to the grief into which Alice had been 
plunged. He had made an attempt to comfort her one 
night on the voyage to the Isle of Palms, when she and 
Poopy and he were left alone together; but he failed. 


176 GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADER. 

After one or two efforts he ended by bursting into tears, 
and then, choking himself violently with his own hands, 
said that he was ashamed of himself, and that he wasn^t 
crying for himself but for her (Alice)^ and that he hoped 
she wouldnH think the worse of him for being so like a 
baby. Here he turned to Poopy, and in a most unreason- 
able manner began to scold her for being at the bottom of 
the whole mischief, in the middle of which he broke off, 
said that he believed himself to be mad, and vowed he 
would blow out his brains first, and those of all the pirates 
afterward. Whereupon he choked, sobbed again, and 
rushed out of the cabin as if he really meant to execute his 
last awful threat. 

But poor Oorrie only rushed away to hide from Alice the 
irrepressible emotions that nearly burst his heart. Yes, 
Oorrie was thoroughly subdued by grief. But the spring 
was not broken; it was only crushed fiat by the weight of 
sorrow that lay like a millstone on his youthful bosom. 

The first thing that set his active brain a-going once 
more — thereby overturning the weight of sorrow and caus- 
ing the spring of his peculiar spirit to rebound — was the 
sight of the two pirates hauling up the boat and carrying 
off the oars. 

Hr.! that^s your game, is it?’^ muttered the boy, be- 
tween his teeth, and grasping the pole with both hands as 
if he wished to squeeze his fingers into the wood. ‘‘ You 
dorPt want to give us a chance of escaping, donT you, eh! 
is that it? You think that because we Ye a small party, 
and the half of us females, that weh;e cowed, and wonY 
think of trying any other way of escaping, do you? Oh 
yes, thatY what you think; you know it, you do, l)ut you’re 
mistaken ” (he became terribly sarcastic and bitter at this 
point); “ youfil find that youYe only got men to deal with, 
that you^ve not only caught a Tartar, but tioo Tartars — one 
o'’ them being ten times tartarer than the other. Oh, if — 

‘‘WhaPs all that you’re saying, Oorrie?” said Mon- 
tague, stepping out of the tent at that moment. 

‘‘ Oh, captain!” said the boy, vehemently, I wish I 
were a gianP^” 

Why so, lad?” 

“ Because then I would wade out to that wreck, clap my 
shoulder to her bow, shove her into deep water, carry you, 
and Alice, and Poopy aboard, hand out the mainmast by 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. 177 

the roots, make an oar of it, and scull out to sea, havin^ 
previously fired ofi the biggest gun aboard of her to let the 
pirates know what I was doing. 

Corrie^s spirit was in a tumultuous and very rebellious 
state. He was half inclined to indulge in hysterical weep- 
ing, and more than half disposed to give way to a burst of 
savage glee. He spoke with the mantling blood blazing in 
his fat cheeks, and his two eyes glittering like those of a 
basilisk. Montague could not repress a smile and a look 
of admiration as he said to our little hero: 

Why, Corrie, if you were a giant it would be much 
easier to go to the other side of the island, wring off the 
heads of all the pirates, and, carrying me on your shoul- 
ders, and Alice and Poopy in your coat-pockets, get safely 
aboard the ‘ Foam,’ and ho! for Sandy Cove.” 

‘‘ So it would,” said Corrie, gravely. “ I did not think 
of that; and it would be a pleasanter way than the other.” 

‘‘ Ah, Corrie, I fear that you are a very blood-thirsty 
fellow.” 

“Of course I am when I’ve pirates to deal with. I 
would kill them every man, without a thought. ” 

“ No you wouldnH, my boy. You couldn’t do it in cold 
blood, even although they are bad men. ” 

“ I don’t know that, ” said Corrie, dubiously. “ I would 
do it without more feeling than I would have in killing a 
cat. ” 

“ Did you ever kill a cat?” asked Montague. 

“ Never,” answered Corrie. 

‘ ‘ Then how can you tell what your feelings would be if 
you were to attempt to do it. I remember once, when I 
was a boy, going out to hunt cats.” 

“ Oh, Captain Montague! surely you never hunted cats,” 
exclaimed Alice, who came out of the tent with a very pale 
face, and uncommonly red eyes. 

“ Yes; indeed, I did once; but I never did it again. I 
caught one, a kitten, and set off with a number of boys to 
kill it; but as we went along it began to play with my 
necktie, and io furr. Our hearts were softened, so we let 
it go. Ah, Corrie, my boy, never go hunting cats!” said^ 
Montague, earnes%. 

Did I say I was going to?” replied Corrie, indig- 
nantly. 


178 GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADEE. 

Montague laughed, and so did Alice, at the fierce look 
the boy put on. 

“ Come,^'’ said the former, Fm sure that you would 
not kill a jDirate iii cold blood, any more than you would 
kill a kitten — would you?^^ 

“ I am not sure o'* that, said Corrie, half laughing, but 
still looking fierce. In the first place, my blood is never 
cold whenl^’ve to do with pirates; and, in the second place, 
pirates are not innocent creatures covered with soft hair^ 
and — they don^t purr!^^ 

This last remark set Alice into a fit of laughter, and 
drew a faint “hee! hee!^^ from Poopy, who had been 
listening to the conversation behind the canvas of the tent. 
Montague took advantage of this improved state of things. 
‘‘ Now, Alice, said he, cheerfully, “ do you and Poopy 
set about spreading our blanket table-cloth, and getting 
supper laid out. It is but a poor one — hard biscuit and 
water — but there is plenty of it, and, after all, that is the 
main thing. Meanwhile, Corrie and I will saunter along 
shore and talk over our plans. Cheer up, my httle girl; 
we will manage to give these pirates the slipr somehow or 
other, you may depend upon it.^^ 

C6rrie,^ said Montague, when they were alone, “ I have 
spoken cheeringly to Alice, because she is a little girl and 
needs comfort, but you and I know that our case is a 
desperate one, and it will require all our united wisdom 
and cleverness to effect our escape from these rascally 
pirates.^'’ 

The commander of the “ Talisman paused, and smiled 
in spite of himself at the idea of being placed in circum- 
stances that constrained him to hold a consultation, in 
matters that might involve life and death, with a mere 
boy! But there was no hMp for it; besides, to say truth, 
the extraordinary energy and courage that had been dis- • 
played by the lad, combined with a considerable amount of 
innate sharpness in his character, tended to create a feeling 
that the consultation might not be altogether without 
advantage. At all events, it was better to talk over their 
desperate position even with a boy, than to confine his 
’^anxieties to his own breast. 

But although Montague had seen enough of his young 
companion to convince him that he was an intelligent 
fellow, he was not prepared for the fertility of resource. 


(5AS( ()Y:NK, the sandal- WOO t) TRADER. 179 

the extremity of daring, and tlie ingenuity of device that 
were exhibited by him in the coarse of that consultation. 

To creep over, in the dead of niglit, knife in hand^ and 
attack the pirates while asleep, was one of the least start- 
ling of liis daring propositions; and to swim out to the 
wreck, set her on fire, and get quietly on board the 
“ Avenger,^^ while all the amazed pirates should have 
rushed over to see what could have caused such a blaze, 
cut the cable and sail away, was among the least ingenious 
of his devices. 

These two talked long and earnestly while the shades of 
evening were descending on the Isle of Palms; and in the 
earnestness of their talk, and the pressing urgency of their 
case, the man almost forgot that his companion was a boy, 
and the boy never for a moment doubted that he himself, 
in everything but years, was a man. 

It was getting dark when they returned to the tent, 
where they found that Alice and Poopy had arranged their 
supper with the most scrupulous care and nicety. These, 
too, with the happy buoyancy of extreme youth, had tem- 
porarily forgotten their position, and, when their male 
companions entered, were deeply engaged in a private 
game of a tea-party,^ ^ in which hard biscuit figured as 
bun, and water was made to do duty for tea. In this latter 
part of the game, by the way, the children did but carry 
out in jest a practice which is not altogether unknown in 
happier circumstances and in civilized society. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

PLANS PARTIALLY CARRIED OUT. — THE GUTTER’S FATE. — 
AND A SERIOUS MISFORTUNE. 

The cutter was a fast sailer, and, although the pirate 
schooner had left Sandy Cove nearly two days before her, 
the “Wasp,” having had a fair wind, followed close on 
her heels. The “ Avenger ” cast anchor in the harbor of the 
Isle of Palms on the morning of her fifth day out; the 
“Wasp” sighted the island on the evening of the same 
day. 

It was not Gascoyne’s purpose to run down at once and 
have a hand-to-hand fight with his own men. He felt that 


180 GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- AVOOD TRADER. 

his party was too weak for such an attempt, and resolved 
to accomplish by stratagem what he could not hope to com- 
pass -by force. He, therefore, hove-to the instant the tops 
of the palm-trees appeared on the horizon, and waited till 
night should set in and favor his designs. 

“ What do you intend to do?^^ inquired Henry Stuart, 
who stood on the deck watching the sun as it sunk into the 
ocean behind a mass of golden clouds, in which, however, 
there were some symptoms of stormy weather. 

I mean to wait till it is dark,^^ said Gascoyne, “ and 
then run doAvn and take possession of the schooner. 

Henry looked at the pirate captain in surprise, and not 
without distrust. Ole Thorwald, who was smoking his big 
German pipe with great energy, looked at him with undis- 
guised uneasiness. 

“You speak as if you had no doiibt whatever of suc- 
ceeding in this enterprise, Mr. Gascoyne, said the latter. 

“ I have no doubt/'^ replied Gascoyne. 

“ I do believe you^re right,^^ returned Thorwald, smok- 
ing furiously as he became ‘more agitated. “ I make no 
question but your villains will receive you with open arms. 
What guarantee have we. Mister Gascoyne, or Mister Hur- 
ward, that we shall not be seized and made to walk the 
plank, or perform some similarly fantastic feat — ^in Avhich, 
mayhap, our feet will have less to do with the performance 
than our necks — when you get into power ^ 

“ You have no guarantee whatever,^^ returned Gascoyne, 
“ except the word of a pirate!” 

“ You say truth, cried Ole, springing up and pacing 
the deck with unwonted energy, while a troubled and 
somewhat fierce expression settled on his usually good- 
humored countenance. “ You say truth, and I think we 
have been ill advised when we took this step; for my part, 
I regard myself as little better than a maniac for putting 
myself obstinately, not to say deliberately, into the very 
jaws of a lion — perhaps I should say a tiger. But mark 
my words, Gascoyne, Durward^^ (here he stopped 
suddenly before the pirate, who was leaning in a careless 
attitude against the mast, and looked him full in the face), 
“ if you play us false, as I have no hesitation in saying I 
believe that you fully intend to do, your life will not be 
worth a pewter shilling. 

“I am yet in your power, Mr. Thorwald,^" said 


GAS00YK13, THE SA HEAL- WOOD TRADER. 181 

Gascoyne; if your friends agree to it, I can not prevent 
your putting about and returning to Sandy Cove. But in 
tliat case the missionary's child will he lost V* 

‘‘ I do not believe .that my child^s safety is so entirely 
dependent on you/"' said Mr. Mason, who had listened in 
silence to the foregoing dialogue; ‘‘ she is in the hands of 
that God on whom you have turned your back, and with 
whom all things are possible. But I feel disposed to trust 
you, Gascoyne; and I feel thus because of what was said 
of you by Mrs. Stuart, in whose good sense I place implicit 
confidence. I would advise Mr. Thorwald to wait patiently 
until he sees more cause than he does at present for dis- 
trust. 

Gascoyne had turned round, and, during the greater 
part of this speech, had gazed intently toward the horizon. 

‘‘ We shall have rough weather to-night,^'’ said he; ‘‘but 
our work will be done before it comes, I hope. IJp with 
the helm now, Henry, and slack off the sheets; it is dark 
enough to allow us to creep in without being observed. 
Manton will of course be in the only harbor in the island ; 
we must, therefore, go round to the other side, and take 
the risk of running on the reefs. 

“ Bisk!’^ exclaimed Henry; “ I thought you knew all 
the passages about the island?'’^ 

“ So I do, lad — all the passages; but I don^t profess to 
know every rock and reef in the bottom of the sea. Our 
only chance is to make the island on the south side, where 
there are no passages at all except one that leads into a 
bay; but if we run into that, our masts will be seen against 
the southern sky, even from the harbor where the schooner 
lies. If we are seen they will be prepared for us, in which 
case we shall have a desperate fight with little chance of 
success and the certainty of much bloodshed. We must, 
therefore, run straight for another part of the shore, not 
far from the bay I have referred to, and take our chance 
of striking. I thinh there is enough of water to float this 
little cutter over the reefs, but I am not sure. 

“Think! sure!’"' echoed Thorwald, in a tone of ex- 
asperated surprise; “ and if we do strike, Mr. Gascoyne, 
do you mean us to go beg for mercy at the hands of your 
men, or to swim back to Sandy Oove?^^ 

“ If we strike, I shall take the boat, land with the men. 


182 ' GASCOTKE, TirE SAKT)AL-WOOD TRADER. 

and leave the cutter to her fate. The ‘ Avenger ^ will 
suffice to take us back to Sandy Cove. 

Ole was rendered speechless by the coolness of this re- 
mark; so he relieved himself by tightening his belt, and 
spouting forth volcanoes of smoke. 

Meanwhile, the cutter had run to within a short distance 
of the island. The night was rendered doubly dark by the 
rapid spreading of those heavy clouds which indicated the 
approach of a squall, if not a storm. 

This is well,'’^ said Gascoyne, in a low tone, to Henry 
Stuart, who stood near him; ‘‘ the worse the storm is to- 
night the better for the success of our entoiq^rise. Henry 
lad, I^m sorry you think so badly of me."’^ 

Henry was taken aback by this unexpected remark, 
which was made in a low, sad tone. 

‘‘ Can I think too badly of one who confesses himself to 
be a pirate 9^^ said Henry. 

“ The confession is at least in my favor. I had no oc- 
casion to confess, nor to give myself up to you. 

“ Give yourself up! It remains to be seen whether you 
mean to do that or not. 

‘‘ Ho you not believe me, Henry? Ho you not believe 
the account that I gave of myself to you and your 
mother ?^^ 

“ How can said the young man, hesitatingly. 

“ Your mother believed me. ” 

“ Well, Gascoyne, to tell you the plain truth, I do feel 
jnore than half inclined to believe you; and I^m sorry for 
you, I am, from my soul. You might have led a different 
life, yon might even do so yet. 

You forget,’^ said Gascoyne, smiling sadly. “ I have 
given myself up, and you are bound to prevent my escap- 
ing."" 

Henry was perplexed by this reply. In the enthusiasm 
of his awakened pity he had for a moment forgotten the 
pirate in the penitent. Before he could reply, however, 
the cutter struck violently on a rock, and an exclamation 
of alarm and surprise burst Irom the crew, most of whom 
were assembled on deck. 

“ Silence!"" cried Gascoyne, in a deep, sonorous tone, 
that was wonderfully different from that in which he had 
just been speaking to Henry; ‘‘ get out the boat. Arm 
yourselves, and jump in. There is no time to lose. "" 


GASCOYNE, THE SANBAL-WOOD TKADEE. 183 

‘‘The cutter is hard and fast, said Henry; “if this 
squall does not come on, or if it turns out to be a light one, 
we may get her off. 

“ Perhaps we may, but I have httle hope of that,'’^ re- 
turned Gascoyne. “ Now, lads, are you all in the boat? 
Come, Henry, get in at once. ’ ^ 

“ I will remain here,^^ said Henry. 

“ For what end?^'’ said Gascoyne, in surprise. 

“ The cutter belongs to a friend; 1 do not choose to for- 
sake her in this off-hand manner.'’^ 

“ But nothing can save her, Henry. 

“ Perhaps not. Nevertheless, I will do what I can. 
She moves a little. If she is lifted over this reef while we 
are on shore, she will be carried out to sea and lost, and 
that must not be allowed. Leave me here till you land the 
men, and then send the boat back with two of them. We 
will put some of the cutter^s ballast into it, and try to tow 
her off. It wonT take half an hour, and that will not inter- 
fere with your plans, I should think, for the whole night 
lies before us.^^ 

Seeing that he was determined, Gascoyne agreed, and 
left the cutter, promising to send off the boat directly. 
But it took half an hour to row from the “ Wasp to the 
shore, and before the half of that time had elapsed, the 
storm which had been impending burst over the island. 

It was much more violent than had been expected. The 
cutter was lifted over the reef by the first wave, and struck 
heavily as she slid into deep water. Then she rushed out 
to sea before the gale. Henry seized the helm and kept 
the little vessel right before the wind. He knew nothing 
of the sea around, and the intense darkness of the night 
prevented his seeing more than a dozen yards beyond the 
bow. 

it was perhaps as well that he was kept in ignorance of 
what waited him ; for he was thus spared at least the anti- 
cipation of what appeared certain destruction. He fancied 
that the rock over which he had been carried was the outer 
reef of the island. In this he was mistaken. The whole 
sea around and beyond him was beset Avith reefs, which at 
that moment were covered with foam. Had daylight re- 
vealed the scene, he would have been appalled. As it was, 
he stood stoutly and hopefully to the helm, while the cutter 
rushed wildly on to her doom. 


184 GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOl) TKAHEE. 

Suddenly she struck with terrific violence, and Henry 
was hurled to the deck. Leaping up, he sprung again to 
the helm and attempted to put about, hut the shock had 
been so great that the whole frame-work of the little craft 
was dislocated. The fastenings of the rudder had been 
torn out, and she was unmanageable. The next wave lifted 
her over the reef, and the gale swept her away. 

Even then the hopes of the young man did not quite fail 
him. He believed that the last reef had now been passed, 
and that he woidd be driven out to the open sea, clear at 
least of immediate danger. It was a vain hope. In 
another moment the vessel struck for the third time, and 
the mast went over the side. Again and again she rose and 
fell with all her weight on the rocks. The last blow burst 
out her sides, and she fell to pieces, a total wreck, leaving 
Henry struggling with the waves. 

He seized the first piece of wood that came in his way, 
and clung to it. For many hours he was driven about and 
tossed by the winds and waves until he began to feel 
utterly exhausted; but he clung to the spar with the 
tenacity of a drowning man. In those seas the water is not 
so cold as in our northern climes, so that men can remain 
in it for a great length of time without much injury. 
There are many instances of the South Sea islanders having 
been wrecked in their canoes, and liaving spent not only 
hours but days in the water, clinging to broken pieces of 
wood, and swimming for many miles, pushing these before 
them. 

When, therefore, the morning broke, and the bright sun 
shone out, and the gale had subsided, Henry found himself 
stilh clinging to the spar, and, although much weakened, 
still able to make some exertion to save himself. 

On looking round he found that numerous pieces of the 
wreck floated near him, and that the portion to which he 
clung was the broken lower mast. A large mass of tlie 
deck, with part of the gunwale attached to it, lay close be- 
side him, held to the mast by one of the shrouds. He at 
once swam to this, and found it sufficiently large to sustain 
his weight, though not large enough to enable him to get 
quite out of the water. Wliile here, half in and half out of 
the water, his first act was to fall on his knees and thank 
God for sparing his life, and to pray for help in that hour 
of need. 


GASf^OYNE, TTIE SANDAL-WOOT) TRADER. 185 

Feeling that it would be impossible to exist much longer 
unless he could get quite out of the water so as to allow the 
sun to warm his chilled frame, he used what strength re- 
mained in him to drag toward him several spars that lay 
within his reach. These he found to be some of the rough 
timbers that had lain on the deck of the cutter to serve as 
spare masts and yards. They were, therefore, destitute of 
cordage, so that it was not possible to form a secure raft. 
Nevertheless, by piling them together on the top of the 
broken portion of the deck, he succeeded in constructing a 
platform which raised him completely out of the water. 

The heat of the sun speedily dried his garments, and as 
the day wore on the sea went down sufficiently to render the 
keeping of his raft together a matter of less difficulty than it 
had been at fi rst. In trying to make some betteT arrangement 
of the spars on which he rested, he discovered the corner of 
a sail sticking between two of them. This he hauled out of 
the water, and found it to be a portion of the gaff. It was 
a fortunate discovery; because, in the event of long ex- 
posure, it would prove to be a most useful covering. 
Wringing it out, he spread it over the logs to dry. 

The doing of all this occupied the shipwrecked youth so 
long that it was nearly midday before he could sit down 
on his raft and think calmly over his position. ■ Hunger 
now began to remind him that he was destitute of food; 
but Henry had been accustomed, while roaming among the 
mountains of his island home, to go fasting for long periods 
of time. The want of breakfast, therefore, did not incon- 
venience him much; but before he had remained inactive 
more than ten minutes, the want of sleep began to tell 
upon him. Gradually he felt completely overpowered by 
it. He laid his head on one of the spars at last, and re- 
signed himself to an influence he could no longer resist. 

It was evening before he awoke from that slumber. The 
sun had just disappeared below the horizon, and the red 
clouds that remained behind were beginning to deepen, as 
night prepared to throw her dark mantle over the sea. A 
gull wheeled over the youth ^s head and uttered a wild cry 
as he awoke, causing him to start up with a feeling of be- 
wildered uncertainty as to where he was. 

The true nature of his position was quickly forced upon 
him. A dead calm now prevailed. Henry gazed eagerly, 
wistfully, round Gie horizon. It was an unbroken line; not 


180 GASCOYNE, THE SANHAL-WOOH TEA HER. 

a speck that resembled a sail was to be seen. Remember- 
ing for the first time that his low raft would be quite invisi- 
ble at a very short distance, he set about erecting a fiag. 
This was easily done. Part of his red shirt was torn off and 
fastened to a light spar, the end of which he stuck between 
the logs. Having set up his signal of distress he sat down 
beside it, and, drawing part of the sail over his shoulders, 
leaned on the broken 23 art of the bulwark, and j)ondered 
his forlorn condition. 

It was a long, sad reverie into which poor Henry Stuart 
fell that evening. Hope did not, indeed, forsake his breast; 
for hope is strong in youth; but he was too well acquainted 
with the details of a-sailor^s life and risks to be able to shut 
his eyes to the real dangers of his position. He knew full 
well that if he should be cast on any of the inhabited 
islands of the South Seas (unless it might be one of the 
very few that had at that time accepted the gospel) he 
would certainly be killed by the savages, whose practice it 
is to slay and eat all unfortunates who chance to be wrecked 
and cast upon their shores. But no islands were in sight; 
and it was possible that he might be left to float on the 
boundless ocean until the slow and terrible process of star- 
vation did its work, and wore away the life which he felt 
to be so fresh and strong within him. 

When he thought of this he shuddered, and reverted, al- 
most with a feeling of pleasure, to the idea that another 
storm might spring up ere long, and, by dashing his frail 
raft to pieces, bring his life to a speedy termination. His 
hopes were not very clear even to his own mind. He did 
indeed hope, because he could not help it; but \7hat it was 
that he hoped for would have puzzled him to state. A 
passing ship finding him iri a part of the Pacific where 
ships were hot wont to pass, was perhaps among the least 
animating of all his hopes. 

But the thoughts that coursed tlirough the youth ^s brain 
that night were not centered alone upon the means or the 
prdspects of deliverance. He thought of his mother — her 
gentleness, her goodness, her unaccountable 2>artiality for 
Gascoyne; but, more than all, he thought of her love for 
himself. He thought, too, of his former life — his joys, his 
sorrows, and his sins. As he remembered these last, his 
soul was startled, and he thought of his God and his Sav- 
iour as he had never thought before, pespite his efforts 


GASCOYNE, THE SAN J>AL- WOOD TRADER. 


187 


to restrain them, tears, but not unmanly tears, would 
flown down his cheeks as he sat that evening on his raft; 
meditated on tlie past, the present, find the future, and 
realized the terrible solemnity of his position — without water 
or food—almost without hope — alone on the deep. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

AN UNEXPECTED MEETING. — DOINGS ON THE ISLE OF 
PALMS. — GASCOYNE^S DESPAIR. 

It was not without some difficulty that the boat reached 
the shore after the squall burst upon them. On landing, 
the party observed, dark though it was, that their leader^s 
countenance wore an expression of the deepest anxiety; yet 
there were lines upon it that indicated the raging of con- 
flicting passions which he found it difficult to restrain. 

‘‘I fear me,^^ said Ole Thorwald, in a troubled voice, 
“ that our young friend Henry Stuart is in danger. 

“Lostr^ said Gascoyne, in a voice so low and grating 
that it startled his hearers. 

“Say not so,^^ said Mr. Mason, earnestly. “He is a 
brave and clever youth, and knows how to manage the cut- 
ter until we can row back and fetch him ashore. 

“ Row back!^^ exclaimed Gascoyne, almost fiercely. 
“ Think you that I would stand here idly if our boat could 
live in such a sea as now rolls on the rocks? The ‘ Wasp 
must have been washed over the reef by this time. She 
may pass the next without being dashed to pieces, but she 
is too rickety to stand the thitd. Xo^ there is no hope!^^ 

While he spoke the missionary's eyes were closed, and his 
lips moved as if in silent prayer. Seizing Gascoyne nerv- 
ously by the arm, he said: “You can not tell that there 
is no hope. That is known only to One who has encour- 
aged us to ‘ hope against hope.-’ Henry is a stout youth 
and a good swimmer. He may succeed in clinging to some 
portion of the wreck. 

“ True, true,^^ cried Gascoyne, eagerly grasping at this 
hope, slight though it was. “ Come; we waste time. 
There is but one cluince. The schooner must be secured 
without delay. Lads, you will follow Mr. Thorwald. Ho 
whatever he bids you. And now, he added, leading the 


188 GASCOYNE^ THE SANDAL-WOOl) TKADEE. 

mercliant aside, “ the time for action has come. I will 
conduct you to a certain point on the island, where you will 
remain concealed among the hushes until I return to you. 

And suppose you never return to us. Mister Gascoyne?” 
said Ole, who regarded every act of the j^irate captain with 
suspicion. 

‘‘Then you will remain there till you are tired, an- 
swered Gascoyne, with some asperity, “ and after that do 
what you please. ” 

“ AVell, well, I am in your power, retorted the. obdurate 
Norseman; “ make what arrangements you please. I will 
carry them out until — 

Here Ole thought fit to break off, and Gascoyne, with- 
out taking notice of the remark, went on in a few hurried 
sentences to explain as much of his plan as he thought 
necessary for the guidance of his suspicious ally. 

This done, he led the whole party to the highest part of 
the island, and made them lie in ambush there while he 
went forward alone to reconnoiter. The night was admi- 
rably suited to their purpose. It was so dark that it was 
difficult to perceive objects more than a few yards off, and 
the wind howled so furiously among the palms that there 
was no danger of being overheard in the event of their 
speaking too loud or stumbling over fallen trees. 

Gascoyne, who knew every rock and tree on the Isle of 
Palms, went rapidly down the gentle slope that intervened 
between him and the harbor in which the “ Poam lay at 
anchor. Dark though it was, he could see the taper masts 
and yards of his vessel traced dimly against the sky. 

Q^he pirate ^s movements now became more cautious. He 
stepped slowly, and paused frequently to listen. At last 
he went down on his hands and knees and crept forward 
for a considerable distance in that position, until he r’eached 
a ledge of rocks that overhung the shore of the bay. Here 
he observed an object like a round lump of rock, lying a 
few yards before him, on a spot where he was well aware 
no such rock had previously existed. It moved after a mo- 
ment or two. Gascoyne knew that there were no wild an- 
imals of any kind on the island, and, therefore, at once 
jumped to the conclusion that this must needs be a huihan 
being of some sort. Drawing his knife he put it between 
his teeth and creeping noiselessly toward the object in 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TEADER. 189 

question, laid liis strong hand on the neck of the horrified 
Will Corrie. 

That adventurous and desperate little hero having lain 
sleepless and miserable at the feet of Alice until the squall 
blew the tent over their heads, got up and assisted Mon- 
tague to erect it anew in a more sheltered position, after 
which, saying that he meant to take a midnight ramble on 
the shore to cool his fevered brow, he made straight for the 
sea, stepped knee-deep into the raging surf, and bared his 
breast to the furious blast. 

This cooled him so effectually that he took to running 
along shore in order to warm himself. Then it occurred 
to him that the night was particularly favorable for a sly 
peep at the pirates. Without a moment^s hesitation, he 
walked and stumbled toward the high part of the island, at 
which he arrived just half an hour before Gascoyne reached 
it. He had seen nothing, however, and was on the point 
of advancing still further in his explorations, when he was 
discovered as we have seen. . 

Gascoyne instantly turned the boy over on his back, and 
nipped a tremendous yell in the bud by grasping his wind- 
pipe. 

‘‘ Why, Corrie!'’^ exclaimed Gascoyne, in surprise, at the 
same time loosening his grip, though still holding the boy 
down. 

‘‘Ah! you villain, you rascally pirate. I know you; 
I— 

The pipe was gently squeezed at this pomt, and the sen- 
tence abruptly cut short. 

“ Come, boy, you must not speak so loud. Enemies 
are near. If you donT behave ITl have to throttle you. I 
have come from Sandy Cove with a party to save you and 
your friends. 

Corrie did not believe a word of this. He knew, or at 
least he supposed, that Gascoyne had left the schooner, not 
having seen him since they sailed from Sandy Cove; but he 
knew nothing of the manner in which he had been put 
ashore. 

“ It wonT do, Gascoyne,^’ gasped poor Corrie, on being 
permitted again to use his wind-pipe. “ Ton may kill me, 
but you 11 never cow me. I don’t believe you, you cow- 
ardly monster. ’ ’ 

“111 have to convince you, then,” said Gascoyne, sud- 


190 GASOOYKE, THE SANUAL-WOOH TRADER. 

denly catching the boy in his arms, and bearing him swift- 
ly away from the spot. 

Corrie struggled like a hero, as he was. He tried to 
shout, but Gascoyne^s right hand again squeezed the wind- 
pipe; he attempted to bite, but the same hand easily kept 
the refractory head in order; he endeavored to kick and 
hit, but Gascoyne’s left hand encircled him in such a com- 
prehensive embrace, and pressed him so powerfully to his 
piratical bosom, that he could only wriggle. This he did 
without ceasing, until Gascoyne suddenly planted him on 
his feet, panting and disheveled, before the astonished faces 
of Frederick Mason and Ole Thorwald'. 

It is not necessary to describe in detail the surprise of all 
then and there assembled, the hurried conversation, and 
the cry of joy with which the missionary received the in- 
formation that Alice was safe and within five minutes’ 
walk of the spot on which he stood. Suffice it to say that 
Corrie was now convinced of the good faith of Gascoyne, 
whom he at once led, along with Mr. Mason, to the tent 
where Alice and her friends slept, leaving Thorwald and 
his men where they were to wait further orders. 

The cry of wild dehght with which Alice sprung into 
her father’s arms might have been destructive of all Gas- 
coyne’s plans had not the wind carried it away from the 
side of the island where the pirate schooner lay. There 
was now no time to be lost. After the first embrace, and 
a few hurried words of blessing and thanksgiving, the mis- 
sionary was summoned to a consultation. 

“ I will join you in this enterprise, Mr. Gascoyne,” said 
Montague. “ I believe what you say to be true; besides, 
the uigency of our present danger leaves me no room for 
choice. I am in your power. I believe that in your pres- 
ent penitent condition you are willing to enable us to es- 
cape from your former associates; but I tell you frankly 
that, if ever I have an opportunity to do so, I will consider 
it my duty to deliver you over to justice.” 

Time is too precious to tritie thus,” said Gascoyne, 
hurriedly. ‘‘ I have already said that I will deliver myself 
up — not, however, to yon, but to Mr. Mason — after I have 
rescued the j^arty, so that I am not likely to claim any con- 
sideration from you on account of the obligation which you 
seem to think my present act will lay you under. But you 
must not accompany me just now.” 


OASCOYKE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. 191 

“ Why not?^^ 

“ Because your presence may be required here. You 
and Mr. Mason will remain_ where you are to guard the 
girls, until I return. All that I have to ask is, that you 
be in readiness to follow me at a mementos notice when 
the time comes. 

“ Of course what you arrange must be agreed to,^^ said 
Montague. 

“ Come, Corrie, I will require 3"Our assistance. Follow 
me/^ said the pirate captain, as he turned and strode rap- 
idly away. 

Corrie was now thoroughly convinced of the good inten- 
tions of Gascoyne; so he followed him without hesitation. 
Indeed, now that he had an opportunity of seeing a little 
more of his gigantic companion, he began to feel a strange 
kind of pity and liking for him, but he shuddered and felt 
repelled when he thought of the human blood in which his 
hands must have been imbrued; for as yet he had not 
heard of the defense of himself which Gascoyne had made 
in the widow^s cottage. But he had not much time to 
think; for in a few minutes they came upon Ole Thorwald 
and his party. 

‘‘ Follow me quietly, said Gascoyne. Keep in single 
file and close together; for if we are separated here, we 
shall not easily get together again. ” 

Leading them over the’ same ground that he had for- 
merly traversed, Gascoyne conducted his party to the shores 
of the bay where the “Foam lay at anchor. Here he 
made them keep close in the bushes, with directions to be 
ready to act the instant he should call on them to do so. 

“ But it would comfort me mightily. Mister Gascoyne,''^ 
said Thorwald, in a somewhat troubled voice, “ if you 
would give^ome instructions or advice as to what I am to 
do in the event of your plans miscarrying. I care naught 
for a fair fight in open field; but I do confess to a dislike 
of being brought to the condition of uot knowing luliat to 
do:^ 

“ It won^t matter much what you do, Mr. Thorwald, 
said. Gascoyne, gravely. “If my jdans miscarry, you will 
be killed, every soul of you. Youfil not have the ghost of 
a chance of escaping. 

Ole opened his eyes uncommonly wide at this. 

“ Well,"'' said he at length, with a sigh of resignation. 


102 GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TIIADEK. 

“ it^s some comfort to know that one can only ^e killed 
once. ^ 

Gascoyne now proceeded leisurely to strip olf liis shirt, 
thereby displaying a chest, back, and arms in which the 
muscles were developed to an extent that might have made 
Hercules himself envious. Kicking olf his boots, he re- 
duced his clothing to a pair of loose knee-breeches. 

‘‘ ’Tis a strange time to indulge in a cold bath!^^ mur- 
mured Thorwald, whose state of surprise was beginning to 
render him desperately ironical. 

Gascoyne took no notice of the remark, but calling (^or- 
rie to his side, said, 

‘‘ Can you swim, boy?^^ 

‘‘ Yes, like a duck. 

“ Can you distinguish the stern of the schooner?’^ 
“Ican.^^ 

Listen, then. When you see a white sheet waved over 
the taffrail, throw olf your jacket and shirt and swim out 
to the schooner. D’ye understand?” 

“ Perfectly,” replied the boy, whose decision of manner 
and action grew with the occasion. 

“And now, Mr. Thorwald,” said Gascoyne, “I shall 
swim off to the schooner. If, as I expect, the men are on 
shore in a place that I wot of, and with which you have 
nothing to do, well and good. I will send a boat for you 
with muffled oars; but, mark you, let there be no noise in 
embarking or in getting aboard the schooner. 'If, on the 
other hand, the men are aboard, I will bring a boat to you 
myself, in which xiase silence will not be so necessary^ and 
your fighting powers shall be put to the proof.” 

AVithout waiting for a reply, the pirate captain walked 
down the sloping beach and waded slowly into the dark 
sea. His motions were so noiseless and stealthy that those 
who watched him with eager eyes could only discern a 
figure moving gradually away from them and melting into 
the thick gloom. 

Fierce though the storm was outside, the sheltered waters 
of the bay were almost calm, so that Gascoyne had no diffi- 
culty in swimming olf to the “ Foam ” without making 
any noise- As he drew near, a footstep on the deck ap- 
prised him that there was at least a watch left. A few 
seconds later a man leaned over the low bulwarks of the 
vessel on the side on whicli the swirjimer approached. 


' GASCOYIS'E, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER, 193 

Hist ! what sort brute^s that!^^ he exclaimed, seizing 
a handspike that chanced to be near him and hurling it at 
the head of the bruto; 

The handspike fell within a yard of Gascoyne, who, 
keeping up his supposed character, made a wild splash 
with his arms and dived like a genuine monster of the deep. 
Swimming under water as vigorously as he could, he en- 
deavored to gain the other side of the vessel before he came 
uj:); but, finding that this was impossible, he turned on his 
back and allowed liimself to rise gently until nothing but 
his face appeared above the surface. By this means he was 
enabled to draw a full breath, and then, causing himself to 
sink, he swam under water to the other side of the schooner, 
and rose under her quarter. 

Here he paused a minute to breathe, then glided with 
noiseless strokes to the main chains, which he seized hold 
of, and, under their shelter, listened intently for at least 
five minutes. 

Xot a sound was to be heard on board save the footsteps 
of the solitary watchman who slowly paced the deck, and 
now and then begniled the tedium of his vigil by humming 
a snatch of a sea-song. 

Gascoyne now felt assured that the crew were ashore, en- 
joying themselves, as they were wont to do, in one of the 
artificial caverns where their goods were concealed. He 
knew, from his own former experience, that they felt quite 
secure when once at anchor in the harbor of the Isle of 
Palms; it was therefore probable that all of them had gone 
ashore except this man, who had been left to take care of 
the vessel. 

Gascoyne now drew himself slowly up into the chains, 
and remained there for a few seconds in a stooping position, 
keeping his head below the level of the buBvarks while he 
squeezed the water out of his lower garments. This done, 
he waited until the man on deck came close to where he 
stood, when he sprung on him with the agility of a tiger, 
threw him down, and placed his hand on his mouth. 

‘‘ It will be your wisest course to be still, my nian,^' 
said Gascoyne, sternly. You know who I am, and you 
know what I can do when occasion requires. If you shout 
wdien I remove my hand from your mouth, you die. ” 

The man seemed to be quite a^vare of the hopelessness of 
his case; for he quietly submitted to have his mouth bound 


194 


GASCOYisE, THE SAHHAL-WOOD TEADEE. 


with a handkerchief, and his hands and feet tied with cords. 
A few seconds sufficed to accomplish this, after which Gas- 
coyne took him up in his arms as if he had been a child, 
carried him below, and laid him on one of the cabin 
lockers, 'fhen, dragging a sheet off one of the beds, he 
sprung np on deck and waved it over the stern. 

Thak’s the signal for me,’’"’ said Corrie, who had 
watched for it eagerly. Now, Uncle Ole, mind you obey 
orders: you are rather inclined to be mutinous, and that 
wonH pay to-night. If you don^’t look out, Gascoyne will 
pitch into you, old boy. ^ 

Master Corrie indulged in these impertinent remarks 
while he was stripping off his jacket and shirt. The ex- 
asperated Thorwald attempted to seize him by the neck and 
shake him, but Corrie Hung his jacket in his face, and 
sprung down the beach like a squirrel. He had wisdom 
enough, however, do say and do all this in the quietest pos- 
sible manner; and when he entered the sea he did so with 
as much caution as Gascoyne himself had done, insomuch 
that he seemed to melt away like a mischievous sprite. 

In^ a few minutes he was alongside of the “Toam;^^ 
caught a rope that was thrown to him, and quickly stood 
on the deck. 

“Well done, Corrie. Clamber over the stern, and slide 
down by that rope into the little boat that floats there. 
Take one of the oars, which you will find muffled, and 
scull to the shore, and bring off Thorwald and his men. 
And, hark^’ee, boy, bring off my shirt and boots. Now, 
look alive; your friend Henry Stuart's life may depend on 
lt» 


“ Henry's life!" exclaimed Corrie, in amazement. 

“ Come, no questions. His life may depend on your 
promptitude. " 

Corrie wanted no stronger motive for speed. In a state 
of surprise mingled with anxious forebodings, he leaped 
over the stern and was gone in a moment. 

The distance between the shore and the schooner being 
very short, the boat was quickly alongside, and the party 
under stout Ole Thorwald took possession of their prize. 

Meanwhile Gascoyne had set the jib and foretopsail, 
which latter had been left hanging loose from the yard, sa 
that, by hauling out the sheets slowly and with great care, 
the thing was done without noise. The cable was then cut, 


gascoyin^e, the sandal-wood trader. 195 

tile boat manned, and the ‘‘ Foam glidfed out of the bay 
like a phantom ship. 

The moment she got beyond the shelter of the palms her 
sails filled, and in a few minutes she was rushing through 
the water at the rate of ten or eleven knots an hour. 

Gascoyne stood at the helm and guided her through the 
intricacies of the dangerous coast with consummate skill, 
until he reached the ’ bay where the wrecked ship lay. 
Here he lay to, and. sent the boat ashore for the party that 
had been left at the tent. They were waiting anxiously for 
his return. Great, therefore, was their astonishment when 
he sent them a message inviting them to go on board the 
^‘Foam/^ 

The instant they embarked,* Gascoyne put about, and, 
ordering the mainsail to be hoisted, and one of the reefs to 
be shaken out of the topsail, ran round to the windwaifi. of 
tlie island, with the foam flying in great masses on either 
side of the schooner, which lay over so much before the 
gale that it was scarcely possible to stand on the deck. 

The manner in which the pirate captain now acted was 
calculated to fill the hearts of those whose lives seemed to 
hang in his hands with alarm if not dismay. His spirit 
seemed to be stirred within him. There was indeed no 
anger, either in his looks or tones; but there was a stern 
fixedness of purpose in. his manner and aspect which 
aroused, yet repelled, the curiosity of those around liim. 
Even Ole Thorwald and Montague agreed that it was best 
to let him alone; for although they might overcome his 
great physical force by the united strength of numbers, the 
result would certainly be disastrous, as he was the only one 
who knew the locality. 

On reaching the windward side of the island he threw^ the 
schooner up into the wind, and ordered the large boat to be 
hoisted out and put in the water. Gascoyne issued his 
commands in a quick, loud voice, and Ole shook his head 
as if he felt that this overbearing manner proved what he 
had expected: namely, that wdien the pirate got aboard his 
own vessel, he would-come out in his true colors. 

Whatever men felt or thought, there was no hesitation in 
rendering prompt obedience to that voice. The large boat 
\vas hoisted off the brass pivot gun amidships and lowered 
into the water. Then Gascoyne gave the helm to one of 
the men, with directions to hold it exactly as it then lay. 


196 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TKADEK. 


and, hurrying down below, speedily returned, to the aston- 
ishment of every one, with a man in his arms. 

Now, Connway,^’ said Gascoyne, as he cut the cords 
that bound the man and removed the handkerchief from 
his mouth, “ Fm a man of few words, and to-night have 
less time than usual to speak. I set you free. Get into 
that boat; one oar will suffice to guide it; the wind will 
drive it to the island. I send it as a parting gift to Manton 
and my former associates. It is large enough to hold them 
all. Tell them that I repent of my sins, and the sooner 
they do the same the better. I can not now undo the evil 
I have done them. I can only furnish the means of 
escape, so that they may have time and opportunity to 
mend their ways; and, hark^ee, the sooner they leave this 
place the better. It will no longer be a safe retreat. ' 
Farewell V’ 

While he was speaking he led the man by the arm to the 
side of the schooner, and constrained him to get into the 
boat. As he uttered the last word he cut the rope that 
held it, and let it drop astern. 

Gascoyne immediately resumed his place at the helm, 
and once more the schooner was running through the 
water, almost gunwhale under, toward the place where the 

Wasp had been wrecked. 

Without uttering a word of explanation, and apparently 
forgetful of every one near him, the pirate continued dur- 
ing the remainder of that night to steer the “ Foam out 
and in among the roaring breakers, as if he were trying 
how near he could venture to the jaws of destruction with- 
out actually jdunging into them. As the ni^ht wore on 
the sky cleared up, and the scene of foaming desolation 
that Avas presented by the breakers in the midst of which 
they flew, was almost enough to appall the stoutest heart. 

The crew looked on in moody silence. They knew that . 
their lives were imperiled; but they felt that they had no 
resource! No one dared to address the silent, stern man 
who stood like an iron statue at the helm the whole of that 
night. Toward morning, he steered out from among the 
dangerous coral reefs, and ran south straight before the 
wind. _ 

Then Corrie summoned up courage, and,, going aft to 
Gascoyne, looked up in his face and said: 

‘‘ YouTe searching for Henry, I think 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADER. 197 

^ “ Yes, boy, I am,^^ answered the pirate, and a gleam of 
kindliness crossed his face for a moment; but it was quick- 
ly chased away by a look of deep anxiety, and Corrie re- 
tired. 

Now that the danger of the night was over, all the people 
on board became anxious to save Henry, or ascertain his 
fate; but although they searched the ocean far and wide, 
they saw not a vestige of him or of the ‘‘ Wasp. During 
this period Gascoyne acted like a bewildered man. He 
never quitted the helm night or day. He only eat a bis- 
cuit now and then when it was brought to him, and he did 
not answer when he was spoken to. 

Every one felt sympathy with the man who seemed to 
mourn so deeply for the lost youth. 

At last Montague went up to him and said, in a gentle 
voice: “ I fear that Henry is gone."’"’ 

Gascoyne started as if a sword had pierced him. For one 
moment he looked fiercely in the young captain^’s face; 
then an expression of the deepest sadness overspread liis 
countenance as he said: ‘‘ Do you think there is no hope?^^ 

“ None,-’"’ said Montague. “ I grieve to give pain to one 
who seems to have been an intimate friend of the lad.^^ 

“ He was the son of my oldest and best friend. What 
would you advise, Mr. Montague?^^ 

I think — that is to say, donH you think — that it would 
be as well to put about now 

Gascoyne ^s head dropped on his chest, and for some mo- 
ments he stood speechless, while his strong hands played 
nervously with the tiller that they had held so long and 
so firmly. At last he looked up and said, in a low voice : 
‘‘ I resign the schooner into your hands, Mr. Montague. 

Then he went slowly below, and shut himself up in his 
cabin. 

Montague at once put down the helm, and, pointing the 
schooner ^s prow northward, steered for the harbor of Sandy 
Cove. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

SURLY DICK. — THE RESCUE. 

We must turn aside here for a short time to follow the 
fortunes of the “ Talisman. 

When that vessel went in chase of the “ Foam,^^ after 


198 GASCOYITE, THE SAHDAL-WOOD TRADER. . 

her daring passage across the reefs, she managed to keep 
her in view until the island was out of sight astern. Then 
the increasing darkness caused by the squall hid the two 
vessels from each other, and before the storm passed away 
the superior sailing qualities of the “ Foam carried her 
far beyond the reach of the cruiser. 

But Mr. Mulroy was not a man to be easily baffled. He 
resolved to continue the chase, and, supposing that his 
commander must have got safely to the shore, he made up 
his mind to proceed southward for a short time, thinking 
it probable that the pirate would run for the shelter of 
those remote islands which he knew were seldom visited by 
the merchant ships. The importance of keeping the chase 
in view as long as possible, and following it up without 
delay, he felt would be accepted as a sufficient excuse by 
Montague for not putting back to take him on board. 

The squalls which happened to prevail at that time drove 
the “ Talisman further south than her first lieutenant 
had intended to go, and she failed to fall in with the pirate 
schooner. Mulroy cruised far and wide for fully a week; 
then he gave up the chase as hopeless. Two days after 
the breaking of the storm that wrecked the “ Wasp,^^ the 
“ Talisman^s^^ prow was turned northward toward Sandy 
Cove. 

It was the close of a calm, beautiful evening when this 
was done. A gentle breeze fanned the topsails, although 
it failed to ruffle the sea. 

‘‘ I donT like to be baffled in this way,^^ said Mulroy to 
the second lieutenant, as they j^aced the quarter-deck to- 
gether. 

“ It is very unfortunate,^^ returned the other. Would 
it not be well to examine the man called Surly Dick before 
leaving these waters? You know he let out that there is 
some island hereabout at wliich the pirates are wont to 
rendezvous. Perhaps by threats, if not by persuasion, he 
may induced to tell us where it lies.^^ 

“ True. I had forgotten that fellow altogether. Let 
him be sent for.^^ 

In a few minutes Surly Dick stepped on the quarter-deck 
and touched his cap. He did not a23pear to have grown 
less surly since his introduction on board the frigate. Dis- 
cipline had evidently a souring effect on his temper. 

“ Your late comrades have escaped me,^^ said the first 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADED. 


199 


lieutenant ; ‘‘ but, you may depend upon it, I will catch the 
villains in. the long run. 

‘‘ It^ll be a pretty long run before you do, remarked 
the man, sulkily. 

Mulroy looked sternly at him. “You forget,'^ said he, 
“ that you are a prisoner. Let me advise you to be at least 
civil in your manner and tone. Whether the run shall be 
a long or a short one remains to be seen. One thing is 
pretty certain, namely, that your own run of life will be a 
very short one. You know the usual doom of a pirate 
when he is caught. 

Surly Dick moved uneasily. “ I was made a pirate 
against my will,"’"’ said he, in a still more sulky tone and 
disrespectful manner. 

“ You will find it difficult to prove that,^^ returned Mul- 
roy. “ Meanwhile I shall put you in irons, and treat you 
as you deserve, until I can place you in the hands of the 
civil authorities. 

Surly Dick stood first on one leg and then on the other; 
moved his fingers about nervously, and glanced in the 
lieutenant -"s face furtively. It was evident that he was ill 
at ease. 

“ I never committed murder, sir,^^ said he, in an im- 
proved tone. ‘ ‘ It wasn^’t allowed on board of the ‘ Aven- 
ger,'’ sir. It^s a hard case that a fellow should be made a 
pirate by force, and then be scragged for it, though he^s 
done none o'’ the bloody work. 

“ This may be true,'’'’ rejoined the lieutenant; “but, as 
I have said, you will find it difficult to convince your 
judges of it. But you will receive a fair trial. There is 
one thing, however, that will stand in your favor, and that 
is a full and free confession. If you make this, and give 
me all the information you can in order to bring your late 
comrades to justice, your judges will perhaps be disposed 
to view your case leniently. '’ '’ 

“Wot more can I confess, sir?’^ said Dick, beginning to 
look a little more interested. “D’ve already confessed that 
I was made a pirate against my will, and that I^ve never 
done no murder; though I have plundered a little, just like 
the rest. As for helpin'’ to bring my comrades to justice, 
I only wish as I know M how, and Fd do it right off, I 
would. 


200 GASCOYKE, THE SAHHAL-WOOD TRADEK. 

Surly Dick^s exiDression of countenance when he said 
this was a sufficient guarantee that he was in earnest. 

There is an island somewhere hereabout/^ said the lieu- 
tenant, where the pirates are in the habit of hiding some- 
times, is there nOt?^^ 

Surly Dick looked at his questioner slyly as he replied. 
There is, sir.^^ 

“ Do you not think it very likely that they may have run 
there now — that they may be there at this moment?^ ^ 

“ It^s oncommmi likely, replied Dick, with a grin. 

Can you direct me how to steer, in order to reach that 
island 

Surly Dick^s aspect changed. He became morose again, 
and looked silently at his feet for a few moments, as if he 
were debating something in his owii mind. He was, in truth, 

E erplexed; for, while he was extremely anxious to bring his 
ated comrades to justice, he was by no means so anxious 
to let the lieutenant into the secret of the treasures con- 
tained in the caverns of the Isle of Palms, all of which he 
knew would be at once swept hopelessly beyond his grasp 
if they should be discovered. He also reflected that if he 
could only manage to get liis late companions comfortably 
hanged, and himself set free for having turned king^s evi- 
dence against them, he could return to the island and ab- 
stract the wealth it contained by degrees. The brilliant 
prospect thus opened up to him was somewhat marred, 
however, by the consideration that some of the pirates 
might make a confession and let this secret be known, in 
which case his golden dreams would vanish. The difficulty 
of making up his mind was so great that he continued for 
some time to twist his fingers and move his feet uneasily in 
silence. 

Mulroy observed the pirate ^s indecision, and, although 
he knew not its cause to the full extent, he was sufficiently 
acquainted with human nature to know that now was the 
moment to overcome the man, if he was to be overcome 
at all. 

“ Well, well, he said, carelessly; “ I^m sorry to see you 
throw away your only chance. As for the information you 
refuse to give, I can do without it. Perhaps I may find 
some of your late comrades when we make the island, who 
will stand witness against you. That will do, my man; 
you may go. 'Mr. Geoffrey "" (turning to a midshipman). 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADER. 


201 


will you accompany that pirate forward, and see that he 
is put in irons 

‘ But you donH know where the island is," said Surly 
Dick, anxiously, as the lieutenant was turning away. 

Mulroy turned back: “ he said; “ but you ought 
to know that when a seaman is aware of the existence of 
an island, and knows that he is near it, a short time will 
suffice to enable him to find it. " 

-Again he was about to turn away, when Dick cried out. 
Stay, sir; will you stand by me if I show you the way?" 
‘‘I will not deceive you,'’ ^ said Mulroy, bluntly. ‘‘If 
you show me how to steer for this island, and assist me in 
every way that you can to catch these villains, I will report 
what you have done, and the judges at your trial will give 
what weight they please to the facts; but if you suppose 
that I will plead for such a rascal as you are, you very much 
mistake me.'^^ 

A look of deep hatred settled on the pirate ^s countenance 
as he said, briefly, “ Well, Ifll show you how to steer. " 

Accordingly, Surly Dick, after being shown a chart, and 
being made aware of the exact position of the ship, ordered 
the course to be altered to ‘^north-half-east.-’^ As this 
was almost dead in the eye of the light breeze that was 
blowing, the “ Talisman " had to proceed on her course by 
the slow process of tacking. , • 

While she was in the act of putting about on one of these 
tacks, the lookout reported “ a boat on the lee bow.^^ 
“Boat on the lee bow!" was passed from mouth to 
mouth, and the order was immediately given to let the 
frigate fall off. In another moment, instead of plowing 
her way slowly and doggedly to windward, the “ Talisman " 
ran swiftly before the breeze toward a dark object which at 
a distance resembled a boat with a mast and a small flag 
flying from it. 

“ It is a raft, I think," observed the second lieutenant,, 
as he adjusted the telescope more perfectly. 

“You are right; and I think there is some one on it," 
said Mulroy. “I see something like a man lying on it; 
but whether he is dead or alive I can not say. There is a 
flag, undoubtedly; but no one waves a handkerchief or a 
rag of any kind. Surely, if a living being occupied the 
raft, he would have seen the ship by this time. Stay; he 


202 GASCOYI^E, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADER. 

moves! No; it must have been imagination. I fear that 
he is dead, poor fellow. Stand by to lower a boat.^^ 

The lieutenant spoke in a s^ voice; for he felt con- 
vinced that he had come too late to the aid of some un- 
fortunate who had died in perhaj^s the most miserable man- 
ner in which man can perish. 

Henry Stuart did indeed lie on the raft a dead man to 
all appearance. Toward the evening of his third day, he 
had suffered very severely from the pangs of hunger. Long 
and earnestly had he gazed round the horizon, but no sail 
aj^peared. He felt that his end ’was approaching, and, in 
a fit of despair and increasing weakness, he fell on his face 
in a state of half consciousness. Then he began to pray, 
and gradually he fell into a troubled slumber. 

It was while he was in this condition that the ‘‘ Talis- 
man hove in sight. Henry had frequently fallen into 
this species of sleep during the last few hours, but he never 
continued in it long; for the pains of thirst, as well as 
hunger, now racked his frame. Nevertheless, he was not 
much reduced in strength or vigor. A long, slow process 
of dying would have still lain before the poor youth, had it 
been his lot to perish on that raft. 

A delightful dream came over him as he lay. A rich 
banquet was spread before him. AVith wolfish desire lie 
grasiied the food, and eat as he never eat before. Oh! it 
was a rare feast, that! Each morsel was delicious; each 
draught nectar. But he could not devour enough. There 
was a strange feeling in him that he could by no means eat 
to satisfaction. 

AVhile he was thus feasting in dreams, the ‘‘ Talisman 
drew near. Her bulwarks were crowded with faces gazing 
earnestly at the bit of red rag that fluttered in the breeze, 
and the pile of loose spars on which the man^s form lay ex- 
tended and motionless. 

Suddenly Henry awoke, with a start, to find that his rich 
banquet was a terrible delusion; that he was starving to 
death; and that a large ship was hove to within a few yards 
of him! 

Starting up on his knees, he uttered a wild shriek. 
Then, as the truth entered his soul, he raised his hand and 
gave a faint cheer. 

The revulsion of feeling in the crew of the “ Talisman 


GASCOYi^E, THE SAKDAL-WOOD TEADER. 203 

was overpowering. A long, loud, tremendous cheer burst 
from every heart! 

“ Lower away was shouted to the men who stood at 
the fall-tackles of the boat. 

As the familiar sounds broke on Henryks ear, he leaped 
to his feet, and, waving his hand above his head, again at- 
tempted to cheer; but his voice failed him. Staggering 
backward, he fell fainting into the sea. 

Almost at the same instant, a man leaped from the bul- 
wark of the frigate, and swam vigorously toward the raft. 
It was Richard Price, the boatswain of the frigate. He 
reached Henry before the boat did, and, grasping his in- 
animate form, supported him until it came up and rescued 
them both. A few minutes later Henry Stuart was re- 
stored to consciousness, arid the surgeon of the frigate was 
administering to him such restoratives as his condition 
seemed to require. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 


THE CAPTURE AND THE FIRE. 


Eight days after the rescue of Henry Stuart from a hor- 
rible death, as related in the last chapter, the “ Talisman 
found herself, late in the afternoon, within about forty 
hours^ sail of Sandy Cove. 

Mulroy had visited the Isle of Palms, and found that the 
pirates had flown. The mate of the ‘‘ Avenger and his 
companions had taken advantage of the opportunity of es- 
cape afforded them by Gascoyne, and had hastily quitted 
their rendezvous, with as much of the most valuable por- 
tion of their booty as the boat could carry. As this is their 
last appearance in these pages, it may be as well to say that 
they were never again heard of. i • 



a storm, or gained some distant 


former leader’s advice — to repent of their sins — or again 
took to piracy, and continued the practice of their terrible 
trade under a more bloody-iriinded captain, we can not tell. 
They disappeared as many a band of wicked men has dis- 
appeared before, and never turned up again. With these 
remarks, we dismiss them from our tale. 

Surly Hick now began to entertain sanguine hopes that 
he would be pardoned, and that he would yet live to enjoy 


204 GASCOYXE, THE SAHDAL-WOOD TKADER. 

the undivided boot}^ which he alone knew lay concealed in 
the Isle of Palms; for, now that he had heard Henryks ac- 
count of the landing of Gascoyne on the island, he never 
doubted that the pirates would fly in haste from the spot 
that was no longer unknown to others, and that they would 
be too much afraid of being captured to venture to return 
to it. 

It was, then, with a feeling of no small concern, that the 
pirate heard the lookout shout on the afternoon referred 
to, ‘‘ Sail ho!^^ . 

“ Where away?’^ 

“ On the lee beam. 

The course of the frigate was at once changed, and she 
ran down toward the strange sail. 

“ A schooner, sir,^^ observed the second lieutenant to Mr. 
Mulroy. 

“It looks marvelously like the ‘Foam,^ alias the 
‘ Avenger,^ observed the latter. “ Beat to quarters. If 
this rascally pirate has indeed been thrown in our way 
again, we will give him a warm reception. Why, the vil- 
lain has actually altered his course, and is standing toward 
us.'’^ 

“ DonT you think it is just possible, suggested Henry 
Stuart, “ that Gascoyne may have captured the vessel from 
his mate, and now comes to meet us as a friend 

“ I don’t know that,^^ said Mulroy, in an excited tone; 
for he could not easily forget the rough usage his vessel has 
received at the hands of the bold pirate. “ I doiiT know 
that. No doubt Gascoyne^s mate was against him; but the 
greater part of the crew were evidently in his favor, else 
why the secret manner in which he was deprived of his 
command? No, no. Depend upon it, the villain has got 
hold of his schooner and will keep it. By a fortunate 
chance we have again met; and I will see to it that we do 
not part without a close acquaintance. Yet why he should 
throw himself into my very arms in this way, puzzles me. 
Hal I see his big gun amidships. It is uncovered. No 
d.oubt he counts on his superior sailing powers, and means 
to give us a shot and show us his heels. Well, we shall 
see. 

“ There goes his flag,^^ observed the second lieutenant. 

“ What! eh! IPs the Union Jack!^^ exclaimed Mulroy. 

I doubt not that your owm captain commands the 


GASCOYXE, THE SAHDAL-WOOD TRADER. 205 

schooner/^ said Henry, who had, of course, long before 
this time, made the &st lieutenant of the “ Talisman 
acquainted with Montague^ s capture by the pirate, along 
with Alice and her companions. “ You naturally mistrust 
Gascoyne; but I have reason to believe that, on this occa- 
sion at least, he is a true man. 

Mulroy returned no answer; for the two vessels were now 
almost near enough to enable those on board to distinguish 
faces with the telescope. A very few minutes sufficed to 
remove all doubts; and, a quarter of an hour later, Mon- 
tague stood on his own quarter-deck, receiving the con- 
gratulations of his officers, while Henry Stuart was seized 
upon and surrounded by his friends Corrie, Alice, PoojDy, 
the missionary, and Ole Thorwald. 

In the midst of a volley of excited conversation, Henry 
suddenly exclaimed, “ But what of Gascoyne? Where is 
the pirate captain?” 

Why, weVe forgotten him;’^ exclaimed Thorwald, 
whose pipe was doing duty like a factory chimney. ‘‘ I 
shouldnT w^onder if he took advantage of us just now to 
give us the slip!” 

“ No fear of that,^^ said Mr. Mason. Poor fellow, he 
has felt your loss terribly, Henry; for we all believed that 
you were lost; but I am bound to confess that none of us 
have shown a depth of sorrow equal to that of Gascoyne. 
It seems unaccountable to me. Ho has not shown his face 
on deck since the day he gave up all hope of rescuing you, 
and has eaten nothing but a biscuit now and then, which 
he would suffer no one but Corrie to take to him.^^ 

Poor Gascoyne! I will go and relieve his mind,” said 
Henry, turning to quit the quarter-deck. 

Now, the noise created by the meeting of the two vessels 
had aroused Gasco5me from his lethargic state of mind and 
body to which he had given way. Coming on deck, he was 
amazed to find himself close to the ‘‘ Talisman.” A boat 
lay alongside the ‘‘ Foam,” into which he jumped, and, 
sculling toward the frigate, he stepped over the bulwarks 
just as Henry turned to go in search of him. 

The pirate captain^ s face wore a haggard, care-worn, 
humbled look, that was very different from its usual bold, 
lion-like expression. No one can tell what a storm had 
passed through the strong man’s breast while he lay alone 
on the floor of his cabin — the deep, deep sorrow; the re- 


20G GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADER. 

morse for sin; the bitterness of soul, when he reflected that 
his present misery was chargeable only to himself. A fe'w 
nights had given him the aspect of a much older man. 

For a few seconds he stood glancing round the quarter- 
deck of the “ Talisman with a look of mingled curiosity 
and sadness. But when his eye fell on the form of Henry 
he turned deadly pale, and trembled like an aspen leaf. 

“ Well, Gascoyne, my — friend , said the youths, 
with some hesitation, as he advanced. 

The shout that Gascoyne uttered on hearing the young 
man^s voice was almost superhuman. It was something 
like a mingled cheer and cry of agony. In another mo- 
ment he sprung forward, and, seizing Henry in his arms, 
pressed him to his breast with a grasp that rendered the 
youth utterly powerless. 

Almost instantly he released him from his embrace, and, 
seizing his hand, said, in a wild, gay, almost fierce man- 
ner: 

“ Come, Henry, lad; I have somewhat to say to you. 
Come with me.-’^ 

He forced rather than led the amazed youth into the boat, 
sculled to the schooner, hurried him into the cabin, and 
shut and locked the door. 

We need scarcely say that all this was a matter of the 
deepest curiosity and interest to those who witnessed it; 
but they were destined to remain with their curiosity un- 
satisfied for some time after that. 

When Henry Stuart issued from the cabin of the 
‘‘ Avenger after that m3^sterious interview, his counte- 
nance wore a surprised and troubled expression. Gas- 
coyne’s, on the contrary, was grave and calm, yet cheerful. 
He was more like his former self. 

The young man was, of course, eagerly questioned as to 
what had been said to him, and why the pirate had shown 
such fondness for him; but the only reply that could be got 
from him was, “ I must not tell. It is a private matter. 
You shall know time enough.” 

With this answer they were fain to be content. Even 
Corrie failed to extract anything more definite from his 
friend. 

A prize crew was put on board the “Foam,” and the 
two vessels proceeded toward the harbor of Sandy Cove in 
company. 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TKADER. 20T 

Henry and liis friends went in the Foam;^^ but Gas- 
coyne was detained a prisoner on board the “ Talisman/^ 
Montague felt that it was his duty to put him in irons; but 
he could not prevail on himself to heap unnecessary indig- 
nity on the head of one who had rendered him such good 
service; so he left him at large, intending to j)ut him in 
irons only when duty compelled him to do so. 

During the night a stiff breeze, amounting almost to a 
gale, of fair wind sprung up, and the two vessels flew to- 
ward their destination; but the “Foam^^ left her bulky 
companion far behind. 

That night a dark and savage mind was engaged on 
board the Talisman in working out a black and des- 
perate plot. Surly Dick saw, in the capture of Gascoyne 
and the ‘‘ Foam,^’ the end of all his cherished hopes, and 
in a fit of despair and rage he resolved to be avenged. 

This man, when he first came on board the frigate, had 
not been kno'vvn as a pirate, and afterward, as we have 
seen, he had been treated with leniency on account of his 
offer to turn informant against his former associates. In 
the stirring events that followed, he had been overlooked, 
and, on the night of which we are writing, he found him- 
self free to retire to his hammock with the rest of the 
watch. 

In the night, when the wind was howling mournfully 
through the rigging, and the greater part of the crew were 
buried in repose, this man rose stealthily from his ham- 
mock, and, with noiseless tread, found his way to a dark 
corner of the ship where the eyes of the sentries were not 
likely to observe him. Here he had made preparations for 
his diabolical purpose. Drawing a flint and steel from his 
pocket, he proceeded to strike a light. This was procured 
in a few seconds; and as the match flared up in his face, it 
revealed the workings of a countenance in which all the 
strongest and worst passions of human nature had stamped 
deep and terrible lines. 

The pirate had taken the utmost care, by arranging an 
old sail over the spot, to prevent the reflection of the light 
being seen. It revealed a large mass of oakum and tar. 
Into the heart of this he thrust the match, and instantly 
glided away, as he had come, stealthily and without noise. 

For a few seconds the fire smoldered; for the sail that 
covered it kept it down, as well as hid it from view. But 


208 GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. 

such combustible material could not be smothered long. 
The smell of burning soon reached one of the marines sta- 
tioned on the lower deck, who instantly gave the alarm; 
but almost before the words had passed his lips the flames 
burst forth. 

‘‘ Fire! fire! fire!^^ 

What a scene ensued! There was confusion at first; for 
no sound at sea rings so terribly in the ear as the shout of 
“Firer^ 

But speedily the stem discipline on board a man-of-war 
prevailed. Men were stationed in rows; the usual appli- 
ances for the extinction of fire were brought into play; 
buckets of water were passed down below as fast as they 
could be drawn. No miscellaneous shouting took j^lace; 
but the orders that were necessary, and the noise of action, 
together with the excitement and the dense smoke that 
rolled up the hatchway, produced a scene of the wildest 
and most stirring description. 

In the midst of this, the pirate captain, as might have 
been expected, performed a prominent part. His great 
physical strength enabled him to act with a degree of vigor 
that rendered his aid most valuable. He wrought with the 
energy of a huge mechanical power, and with a quick 
promptitude of perception and a ready change of action 
which is denied to mere mechanism. He tore down the 
bulkheads that rendered it difficult to get at the place where 
the fire was; he hurled bucket after bucket of water on the 
glowmg mass, and rushed, amid clouds of hot steam and 
suffocating smoke, with piles of wet blankets to smother it 
out. 

Montague and he wrought together. The young cap- 
tain issued his orders as calmly as if there were no danger, 
yet with a promptitude and vigor that inspired his men with 
confidence. Gascoyne ^s voice was never heard. He obeyed 
orders, and acted as circumstances required; but he did bot 
presume, as men are apt to do on such occasions, to give 
orders and advice when there was a legitimate commander. 
Only once or twice were the deep tones of his bass voice 
heard, when he called for more water, or warned the more 
daring among the men when danger from falling timber 
threatened them. 

But all this availed not to check the flames. The men were 
quickly driven upon deck, and it soon became evident that 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TEADER. 209 

the vessel must perish. The fire burst through the hatch- 
ways, and in a short time began to leap up the rigging. 

It now oecame necessary to make arrangements for the 
saving of the crew. 

“ Nothing more can be done, Mr. Mulroy,^^ said Monta- 
gue, in a calm voice that accorded ill with the state of his 
mind. ‘‘ Get the boats ready, and order the men to as- 
semble on the quarter-deck. 

‘ ‘ If we were only nearer the island, said Gascojme, in 
a low tone, as if he were talking to himself, ‘‘ we might run 
her on the reef, and the breakers would soon put out the 
fire.^^ 

“ That would be little consolation to me,^^ said Monta- 
gue, with a bitter smile. “ Lower the boats, Mr. Mulroy. 
The ‘ Foam ^ has observed our condition, I see. Let them 
row to it. I will go in the gig. 

The first lieutenant hastened to obey the order, and the 
men embarked in the boats, lighted by the fiames, w^hich 
were now roaring high up the masts. 

Meanwhile the man who had been the cause of all this 
was rushing about the deck, a furious maniac. He had 
wrought at the fire almost as fiercely as Gascoyne himself, 
and now that all hope was past, he continued, despite the 
orders of Montague to the contrary, to draw water and rush 
with bucket after bucket into the midst of the roaring 
fiames. At last he disappeared, no one knew where, and 
no one cared; for in such a scene he was soon forgotten. 

The last man left the ship when the heat on the poop 
became so great that it was scarcely possible to stand there. 
Still Montague and Gascoyne stood side by side near the 
taffrail, and the gig with her crew floated just below them. 
The last boatful of men pulled away from the burning ves- 
sel and then Montague turned,* with a deep sigh, and said: 

‘‘ Now, Mr. Gasco3ne, get into the boat. I must be the 
last man to quit the ship.^^ 

Without a word, Gascoyne swung himself over the stern, 
and, sliding down by a rope, dropped into the boat. iVIbn- 
tague followed, and they rowed aw^ay. 

Just at that moment Surly Dick sprung on the bul- 
wa-rks, and, holding on by the mizzen-shrouds, took off his 
hat and cheered. 

‘‘Ha! ha!^^ he shrieked, with a fiendish laugh, “ Fve 
escaped you, have I? escaped you — hurrah I and with an- 


210 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. 


other mid shriekhe leaped on the hot deck, and, seizing a 
bucket, resumed his self-imposed duty of deluging the fire 
with water. 

‘‘ Pull, pull, lads! We can’t leave the miserable man to 
perish, ” cried Montague, starting up, while the men rowed 
after the frigate with their utmost might. But in vain. 
Already she was far from them, and ever increased the dis- 
tance as she ran before the gale. 

As long as the ship lasted the poor maniac was seen dili- 
gently pursuing his work; stopping. now and then to spring 
on the bulwarks and give another cheer. 

At last the blazing vessel left boats and schooner far be- 
hind, and the flames rose in great flakes and tongues above 
her topmasts, while the smoke rolled in dense black vol- 
umes away to leeward. 

While the awe-stricken crew watched her, there came a 
sudden flash of bright white flame, as if a volcano had 
leaped out of the ocean. The powder-magazine had caught. 
It was followed by a roaring crash that seemed to rend the 
very heavens. A thick darkness settled over the scene ; and 
the vessel that a few hours before had been a noble frigate, 
was scattered on the ocean a mass of blackened ruins. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

PLEADING FOR LIFE. 

The Pacific is not always calm, but neither is it always 
stormy. We think it necessary to make this latter ob- 
servation, because the succession of short-lived gales and 
squalls which have been prominently and unavoidably 
brought forward in our tale might lead the reader to deem 
the name of this ocean inappropriate. 

The gale blew itself out a few hours after the destruction 
of the “ Talisman,” and left the Foam ” becalmed with- 
in sight of Sandy Cove Island, almost on the same spot of 
ocean where she lay when we introduced her to the reader 
in the first chapter. 

Although the sea was not quite so still now, owing to 
the swell caused by the recent gale, it was quite as glassy 
as it was then. Tlie sun, too, was as hot, and the sky as 
brilliant; but the aspect of the ‘‘ Foam ” was much 


GASCOYKE, THE SAHDAL-WOOD TRADER. 211 

changed. The deep quiet was gone. Crowded on every 
part of the deck, and even down in her hold, were the 
crew of the man-of-war, lolling about listlessly and sadly, 
or conversing With grave looks about the catastrophe whicli 
had deprived them so suddenly of their floating home. 
Gascoyne and Henry leaned over the stern, to avoid being 
overheard by those around them, and conversed in low 
tones. 

‘‘But why not attempt to escape said the later, in 
reply to some observation made by his companion. 

“ Because I am pledged to give myself up to justice. 

“ No; not to justice,^'’ replied the youth, quickly. 
“ You said you would give yourself up to me and Mr. 
Mason. I for one won't act the part of a — a — 

“ Thief-catcher,^^ suggested Gascoyne. 

“ Well, put it so if you will; and I am certain that the 
missionary will not have anything to do with your capture. 
He will say that the officers of justice are bound to attend 
to such matters. It would be perfectly right in you to try 
to escape. 

“ Ah, Henry! your feelings have warped your judg- 
ment,” said Gascoyne, shaking his head. “ It is strange 
how men will prevaricate and deceive themselves when 
they want to reason themselves into a wrong course or out 
of a right one. But what you or Mr. Mason think or will 
do has nothing to do with my course of action. ” 

“ But the law holds, if I mistake not, that a man is not 
bound to criminate himself,^ ^ said Henry. 

“ I know not and care not what the law of man holds, 
replied the other, sadly. “ I have forfeited my life to my 
country, and I am willing to lay it down.^^ 

“ Nay, not your life,^"’ said Henry; “ you have done no 
murder. 

“ Well, then, at least my liberty is forfeited. I shall 
leave it to those who judge me whether my life shall be 
taken or no. I sometimes wish that I could get away to 
some distant part of the world, and there, by living the 
life of an honest man, try to undo, if possible, a little of 
what I have done. But, woe^s me, wishes and regrets come 
too late. No; I must be content to reap what I have 
sown.^^ 

“ They will be certain to hang you, ” said the youth, bit- 
terly. 


212 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. 


I think it likely they will/^ replied his companion. 

‘‘ And would you call that justice.^^^ asked Henry, sharp- 
ly. ‘‘ Whatever punishment you may deserve, you do not 
.deserve to die. You know well enough that your word will 
go for nothing, and no one else can bear witness in your 
favor. You will be regarded simply as a notorious pirate. 
Even if some of the people whose lives you have spared 
while taking their goods should turn up, their testimony 
could not prove that you had not murdered others; so your 
fate is certain if you go to trial. Have you any right, 
then, to compass your own death by thus giving yourself 
up?^^ 

‘‘ Ah, boy, your logic is not sound. 

“ But answer my question, said the youth, testily. 

Henry, plead with me no longer, said Gascoyne, in a 
deep, stern tone. “ My mind is made up. I have spent 
many years in dishonesty and self-deception. It is perhaps 
possible that by a life devoted to doing good I might in the 
long run benefit men more than I have damaged them. 
This is just possible, I say, though I doubt it; but I have 
promised to give myself up whenever this cruise is at an 
end, and I wonT break the last promise I am likely to give 
in this world; so do not attempt to turn me, boy. 

Henry made no reply, but his knitted brows and com- 
pressed lips showed that a struggle was going on within 
him. Suddenly he stood erect, and said, firmly: 

“ Be it so, Gascoyne. I will hold you to your promise. 
You shall not escape me!^^ 

W^ith this somewhat singular reply, Henry left his sur- 
prised companion, and mingled with the crowd of men who 
stood on the quarter-deck. 

A light breeze had now sprung up, and the ‘‘ Foam 
was gliding rapidly toward the island. Gascdyne^s deep 
voice was still heard at intervals issuing a word of com- 
mand; for, as he knew the reefs better than any one else 
on board, Montague had intrusted him with the pilotage of 
the vessel into harbor. 

When they had passed the barrier-reef, and were sailing 
over the calm waters of the inclosed lagoon in the direction ‘ 
of Sandy Cove, the young officer went up to the pirate cap- 
tain with a perplexed air and a degree of hesitation that 
was very foreign to his character. 

Gascoyne fiushed deeply when he observed liim. “ I 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TEADER. 


213 


know what you would say to me,^^ he said, quickly. ‘"You 
have a duty to perform. I am ready.” 

“ Gascoyne, said Montague, with deep earnestness of 
tone and manner, “ I would willingly spare you this, but, 
as you say, I have a duty to perform. I would, with all 
my heart, that it had fallen to other hands. Believe me, 
I appreciate what you have done within the last few days, 
and 1 believe what you have said in regard to yourself and 
your career. All this, you may depend upon it, will oper- 
ate power! ully with your judges. But you know I can 
not permit you to quit this vessel 2 ^ free man.’^ 

“ I know it,” said Gascoyne, calmly. 

“ And — and — ” (here Montague stammered and came to 
an abrupt pause). 

“ Say on. Captain Montague. I appreciate your gen- 
erosity in feeling for me thus; but I am prepared to meet 
whatever awaits me. ” 

“It is necessary,” resumed Montague, “ that you be 
manacled before I take you on shore. ” 

Gascoyne started. He had not thought of this. He had 
not fully realized the fact that he was to be deprived of his 
liberty so soon. In the merited indignity which was. now 
to be put upon him, he recognized the opening act of the 
tragedy which was to terminate with his life. 

“ Be it so,^^ he said, lowering his head, and sitting down 
on a carronade, in order to avoid the gaze of those wiio 
surrounded him. 

While this was being done, the youthful Corrie was in 
the fore part of the schooner whispering eagerly to Alice 
and Poopy. 

“ Oh, Alice! I\e seen him!” exclaimed the lad* 

“Seen who inquired Alice, raising her pretty little 
eyebrows just the smallest morsel. 

“Why, the boatswain of the ‘ Talisman,^ Dick Price, 
you know, who jumped overboard to save Henry when he 
fell off the raft. Come, 1^11 point him out.” 

So saying, Corrie edged his way through the crowd until 
he could see the windlass. Here, seated on a mass of chain 
cable, sat a remarkably rugged specimen of the British 
boatswain. He was extremely short, excessively broad, un- 
commonly jovial, and remarkably hairy. He wore his 
round hat so far on the back of his head that it was a mar- 
vel how it managed to hang there, and smoked a pipe so 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TKADEK. 


2U 


black that the most powerful imagination could hardly 
conceive of its ever having been white, and so short that it 
seemed all head and no stem. 

“ That^s him!'’^ said Corrie, eagerly. 

Oh! is it?^^ replied Alice, with much interest. 

Heel hee!^^ observed Poopy. 

‘‘ Stand by to let go the anchor shouted Montague. 

Instantly bustle and noise prevailed everywhere. The 
crew of the lost frigate had started up on hearing the order, 
but having no stations to run to, they expended the energy 
that had been awakened, in shuffling about and opening an 
animated conversation in under-tones. 

Soon the schooner swept round the point that had hither- 
to shut out the view of Sandy Cove, and a few minutes later 
the rattling of the chain announced that the voyage of the 
“ Foam had terminated. 

Immediately after, a boat was lowered, and Gascoyne 
was conveyed by a party of marines to the shore, and 
lodged in the prison which had been but recently occupied 
by our friend John Bumpus. 

Mrs. Stuart had purposely kept out of the way when she 
heard of the arrival of the “ Foam."’^ She knew Gascoyne 
so well that she felt sure he would succeed in recapturing 
his schooner. But she also knew that in doing this he 
would necessarily release Montague from his captivity, in 
which case it was certain that the pirate captain, having 
promised to give himself up, would be led on shore a pris- 
oner. She could not bear to witness this; but no sooner 
did she hear of his being lodged in jail than she prepared 
to visit him. 

As she was about to issue from her cottage, Henry met 
her, and clasped her in his arms. The meeting would have 
doubtless been a warmer one had the mother known what a 
narrow escape her son had so recently had. But Mrs. Stu- 
art was accustomed to part from Henry for weeks at a 
time, and regarded this return in much the same light as 
former home-comings, except in so far as he had news of 
their lost friends to give her. She welcomed him therefore 
with a kiss and a glad smile, and then hurried him into 
the house to inquire about the result of the voyage. 

‘ ‘ I have already heard of your success in finding Alice 
and our friends. Come, tell me more. 

“ Have you heard how nearly I was lost, mother 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL WOOD-TRADER. 215 

Lost!^^ exclaimed the widow, in surprise; “ no, I have 
heard nothing of that.^’ 

Henry rapidly narrated his escape from the wreck of the 

Wasp,^^ and then, looking earnestly in his mother^s anx- 
ious face he said, slowly: “ But you do not ask for Gas- 
coyne, mother. Do you know that he is now in the jail?^^ 

The widow looked perplexed. ‘‘ I know it,^^ said she. 

I w^as just going to see him when you came in. ” 

‘‘ Ah, mother,^’ said Henry, reproachfully, “why did 
you not tell me sooner about Gascoyne? I — 

He was interrupted here by Oorrie and Alice rushing 
into the room, the latter of whom threw herself into the 
widow'^s arms and burst into tears, while Master Corrie in- 
dulged in some eccentric bounds and cheers by way of re^ 
iieving his. feelings. For some time Henry allowed them . 
to talk eagerly to each other; then he told Corrie and Alice 
that he had something of imj)ortance to say to his mother, 
and led her into an adjoining room. 

Corrie' had overheard the words spoken by Henry just as 
he entered, and great was his curiosity to know what was 
the mystery connected with the pirate captam. This curi- 
osity was intensified when he heard a half-suppressed shriek 
in the room where mother and son were closeted. For one 
moment he was tempted to place his ear to the key-hole! 
But a blush covered his fat cheeks at the very thought ^f 
acting such a disgraceful part. Like a wise fellow, he did 
not give the tempter a second opportunity, but, seizing 
the hand of his companion, said : 

“ Come along, Alice; weTl go seek for Bumpus.^' 

Half an hour afterward the widow stood at the jail-door. 
The jailer was an intimate friend, and considerately retired 
during the interview. 

“ Oh, Gascoyne! has it come to this?^^ She sat down 
beside the pirate, and grasped one of his manacled hands 
in both of hers. 

“ Even so, Mary; my hour has come. I do not com- 
plain of my doom. I have brought it on myself. 

“But why not try to escape ?^^ said Mrs. Stuart, 
earnestly. “ There are some here who could aid you in 
the matter. 

Here the widow attempted to reason with Gascoyne, as 
her son had done before, but with similar want of success. 
Gascoyne remained immovable. He did, indeed, betray 


216 GASCOYNE^ THE SANDAL-WOOD TEADER. 

deep emotion while the woman reasoned with him, in tones 
of intense earnestness; hut he would not change his mind. 
He said that if Montague, as the representative of the law, 
would set him free in consideration of what he had recently 
done, he would accept of liberty; but nothing could induce 
him to escape. 

Leaving him in this mode, Mrs. Stuart hurried to the 
cottage where Montague had taken up his abode. 

The young captain received her kindly. Having learned 
from Oorrie all about the friendship that existed between 
the widow and Gascoyne, he listened with the utmost con- 
sideration to her. 

‘‘It is impossible,^ ^ said he shaking his head; “Icfm 
not set him free. 

“ Do his late services weigh nothing with you?^^ pleaded 
the widow. 

“My dear madame,^^ replied Montague, sorrowfully, 
“ you forget that I am not his judge. I have no right to- 
weigh the circumstances of his case. He is a convicted and 
self-acknowledged pirate. My only duty is to convey him 
to England, and hand him over to the officers of justice. 
I sympathize with you, indeed I do; for you seem to take 
his case to heart very much; but I can not help you. I 
do my duty. The ‘ Foam ^ will be ready for sea in a 
few days. In it I shall convey Gascoyne to England.’’^ 

‘ ‘ Oh, Mr. Montague ! I do take Ins case to heart, as 
you say, and no one on this eaHh has more cause to do so. 
"Will it interest you more in Gascoyne, and induce you to 
use your influence in his favor, if I tell you that — that — he 
iS my husband 

“ Your husband cried Montague, springing u^d, and 
pacing the apartment with rapid strides. 

“ Ay,^^ said Mrs. Stuart, mournfully, covering her face 
with her hands. “ I had hoped that this secret would die 
with me and him; but in the hope that it may help, ever 
so little, to save his life, I have revealed it to you. 

“ Believe me, the secret shall be safe in my keeping,-’^ 
said Montague, tenderly, as he sat down again, and drew 
his chair near to that of Mrs. Stuart. “But, alas! I do 
not see how it is possible for me to help your husband. I 
will use my utmost influence to mitigate his sentence; but 
I can not, I dare not set him free. 

The poor woman sat pale and motionless while the cap- 


217 


‘GASCOYN'E, the sandal-wood trades. 

tain said this. She began to perceive that all hope was 
gone, and felt despair settling down on her heart. 

“ What will be his doom,^^ said she, in a husky voice, 
if his life is spared 

‘‘I do not know. At least I am not certain. My 
knowledge of criminal law is very slight; hut I should 
su23pose it would be transportation for—"" 

Montague hesitated, and could not find it in his heart to 
add the word ‘‘ life."" 

Without uttering a word, Mrs. Stuart rose, and, stagger- 
ing from the room, hastened with a quick, unsteady step 
toward her own cottage. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

A PECULIAR CONFIDANT.— MORE DIFFICULTIES, AND 
VARIOUS PLANS TO OVERCOME THEM. 

AYhen Alice Mason was a little child, there was a certain 
tree near her father"s house to which, in her hours of 
sorrow, she was wont to run and tell it all the .grief of her 
overflowing heart. She firmly believed that this tree heard 
and understood and sympathized with all that she said. 
There was a hole in the stem into which she was wont to 
pour her complaints; and when she had thus unburdened 
her heart to her silent confidant, she felt comforted, as one 
feels when a human friend has shaired one"s sorrows. 

When the child became older, and her sorrows were 
heavier, and, perhaps, more real, her well-nurtured mind 
began to rise to a higher source for comfort. Habit and 
inclination led her indeed to the same tree; but when she 
kneeled upon its roots and leaned against its stem, she 
jDOured out her heart into the bosom of Him who is ever 
jn’esent and who can be touched with a feeling of our in- 
firmities. 

Almost immediately after landing on the island, Alice 
sought the umbrageous shelter of her old friend and 
favorite, and on her knees thanked God for restoring her 
to her father and her home. 

To the same place the missionary directed his steps; for 
he knew it well, and doubtless expected to find his daughter 
there. 


218 GASCOY^TE, THE SAKDAL-W'OOD TRADEE. 

Alice, dear, I have good news to tell you,^^ said the 
missionary, sitting down beside her. 

“ I know what it is!^^ cried Alice, eagerly. 

‘‘ What do think it is, my pet?^'’ 

“ Gascoyne is to be forgiven! Am I right?^"’ 

Mr. Mason shook his head sadly. No, that is not 
what I have to tell you. Poor fellow, I would that I had 
some good news to give you about him; but I fear there is 
no hope for him — I mean as regards his being pardoned by 
man.^^ 

Alice sighed, and her face expressed the deepest tender- 
ness and sympathy. 

“ Why do you take so great an interest in this man, 
dear?’^ said her father. 

Because Mary Stuart loves him, and I love Mary Stuart. 
And Corrie seems to like him, too, since he has come to 
know him better. Besides, has he not saved my life, and 
Captain Montague^’s, and Corners? Corrie tells me that 
he IS very sorry for the wicked, things he has done, and he 
thinks that if his life is spared he will become a good man. 
Has he been very wicked, papa?^^ 

“ Yes, very wicked. He has robbed many people of 
their goods, and has burned and sunk their vessels.-’^ 

Alice looked horrified. 

‘‘ But,^^ continued her father, “ I am convinced of the 
truth of his statement — that he has never shed human 
blood. Nevertheless, he has been very wicked, and the 
fact that he has such a powerful will, such commanding 
and agreeable manners, only makes his guilt the greater; 
for there is less excuse for his having devoted such powers 
and qualities to the service of Satan. I fear that his judges 
will not take into account his recent good deeds and his 
penitence. They will not pardon him.'’^ 

‘‘ Father, said Alice, earnest!}^, “ God pardons the 
chief of sinners; why will not man do so?^' 

The missionary was somewhat perplexed as to how he 
should reply to such a difficult question. 

My child,'" said he, the law of God and the law of 
man must be obeyed, or the punishment must be inflicted on 
the disobedient; both laws are alike in this respect. In 
the case of God's law, Jesus Christ our Lord obeyed it, 
bore the punishment for us, and set our souls free. But 


GASCOY^TE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADER. 


219 


in the case of man^s law who is to bear Gascoyne ^s punish- 
ment and set him free?^^ 

As poor Alice could not answer this, she cast down her 
tearful eyes, sighed again, and looked more miserable than 
ever. 

“ But come, my pet,^^ resumed Mr. Mason, ‘‘ you must 
guess again. It is really good news — ^try.^' 

“I can%^^ said Alice, looking up in her father^ s face 
with animation and shaking her head. ‘‘ I never could 
guess anything rightly. ” 

What would you think the best thing that could 
happen?’^ said her father. 

The child looked intently at the ground for a few seconds, 
and pursed her rosy little mouth, while the smallest possi- 
ble frown — ^the result of intellectual exertion — knitted her 
fair brow. 

“ The best thing that could happen, said she, slowly, 
would be that all the whole world should become good.^^ 
“Well done, Alice exclaimed her father, laughing; 
“ you have certainly taken the widest possible view of the 
subject. But you have soared a little too high; yet you 
have not altogether missed the mark. What would you 
say if the chiefs of the heathen village were to cast their 
idols into the fire, and ask me to come over and teach them 
how to become Christians?^ ^ 

“ Oh! have they really done this?’^ cried Alice, in eager 
surprise. 

“ Indeed they have. I have just seen and had a talk 
with some of their chief men, and have j^romised to go 
over to their village to-morrow. I came up here just to 
tell you this, and to say that your friend the widow will 
take care of you while I am away. " 

“And shall we have no more wars — no more of these 
terrible deeds of blood ?^^ inquired the child, while a 
shudder passed through her frame at the recollection of 
what she had heard and seen during her short life on that 
island. 

I trust not, my lamb. I believe that God has heard 
our prayers, and that the prince of peace will henceforth 
rule in this jfiace. But I must go and prepare for this 
work. Come, will you go with me?’^ 

“Leave me here fora little, papa; I wish to think it 
over all alone. 


220 GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADEE. 

Kissing her forehead, the missionary left her. When he 
was out of sight the little girl sat down, and, nestling be- 
tween two great roots of her favorite tree, laid her head 
against the stem and shut her eyes. 

But poor Alice was not left long to her solitary medita- 
tions. There was a pecuharly attractive power about her 
which drew other creatures around her, wherever she might 
chance to be. 

The first individual who broke in upon her was that 
animated piece of ragged door-mat, Toozle. This imbecile 
little dog was not possessed of much dehcacy of feeling. 
Having been absent on a private excursion of his own into 
the mountain when the schooner arrived, he only became 
aware of the return of his lost, loved, and deeply regretted 
mistress, when he came back from his trip. The first 
thing that told him of her presence was his own nose, the 
black point of which protruded with difficulty a quarter of 
an inch beyond the mass of matting which totally extin- 
guished his eyes, and, indeed every other portion of his 
head. 

Coming down the hill immediately behind Sandy Cove 
at a break-neck scramble, Toozle happened to cross the path 
by which his mistress had ascended to her tree. The in- 
stant he did so, he came to a halt so sudden that one might 
have fancied he had been shot. In another moment he was 
rushing up the hill in wild excitement, giving an occasional 
yelp of mingled surprise and joy as he went along. The 
footsteps led him a little beyond the tree, and then turned 
down toward it, so that he had the benefit of the descent in 
making the final onset. 

The moment he came in sight of Alice he began to bark 
and yelp in such an eager way that the sounds produced 
might be described as an intermittent scream. He charged 
at once with characteristic want of consideration, and, 
plunging headlong into Aliceas bosom, sought to cover her 
face with kisses; that is, with licks, that being the well- 
known canine method of doing the thing! 

‘‘«Oh, Toozle! how glad, glad, glad, l am to see you! my 
own darling Toozle !^^ cried Alice, actually shedding tears. 

Toozle screamed with delight. It was almost too much 
for him. Again and again he attempted to lick her face, 
a familiarity which Alice gently declined to permit; so he 
was obliged to content himself with her hand. 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TKADER. 221 

It has often struck us as surprising that little dogs — 
usually so intelligent and apt to learn in other matters — 
should be so dull of apprehension in this. Toozle had the 
experience of a lifetime to convince him that Alice objected 
to have her face licked, and would on no account permit it, 
although she was extremely liberal in regard to her hands; 
but Toozle ignored the authority of experience. He was at 
this tinie a dog of mature years; but his determination to 
kiss Alice was as strong as it had been when, in the tender 
years of his infancy, he had entertained the mistaken belief 
that she was his own mother. 

He watched every unguarded moment to thrust forward 
his black, not to say impertinent, little snout; and although 
often reproved, he still remained unconvinced, resolutely 
returned to the charge, and was not a bit ashamed of him- 
self. 

On the present occasion, Toozle behaved like a canine 
lunatic, and Alice was beginning to think of exercising a 
little tender violence in order to restrain his superabundant 
glee, when another individual appeared on the scene, and 
for a time, at least, relieved her. 

The second comer was our dark friend, Kekupoopi. 
yhe by some mischance had got separated from her young 
mistress, and immediately went in search of her. She 
found her at once, of course; for, as water finds its level, 
so love finds its object, without much loss of time. 

“Oh, Toozle! hee! hee! am datyou?^^ exclaimed Poopy, 
who was as much delighted in her way to see the dog as 
Alice had been. 

Toozle was, in his way, as much delighted to see Poopy 
as he had been to see Alice; no, we are wrong, not quite 
so much as that, but still extremely glad to see her, and 
eviimed his joy by extravagant sounds and actions. He 
also evinced his scorn for the opinion that some foolish 
persons hold, namely, that black people are not as good as 
white, by rushing into Poopy’ s arms and attempting to 
lick her black face as he had tried to do to Alice. As the 
dark-skinned girl had no objection, (for tastes differ, you 
see), and received the caresses with a quiet “ Heej hee!” 
Toozle was extremely gratified. 

Now, it happened that Jo Bumpus, oppressed with a 
feeling of concern for his former captain, and with a feel- 
ing of doubt as to the stirring events in which he was an 


222 GASCOYifE, THE SAIs^DAL-WOOD TRADER. 

actor being waking realities, had wandered up the mount- 
ain-side in order to indulge in profound philosophical re- 
flections. 

Happening to hear the noise caused by the joyful meet- 
ing which we have just described, he turned aside to see 
what all the “ row ” could be about, and thus came unex- 
pectedly on Alice and her friends. 

About the same time it chanced (for things sometimes 
do happen by chance in a very remarkable way), it chanced 
that AVill Corrie, being also much depressed about 
Gascoyne, resolved to take into his confidence Hick Price, 
the boatswain, with whom during their short voyage to- 
gether he had become intimate. 

He found that worthy seated on a cask at the end of the 
rude pile of coral rocks that formed the quay of Sandy 
Cove, surrounded by some of his shipmates, all of whom, 
as well as himself, were smoking their pipes and discussing 
things in general. 

Corrie went forward and pulled Dick by the sleeve. 

“Hallo, boy! what do you want with me?’^ said the 
boatswain. 

“ I want to speak to you.^^ 

“ Well, lad, fire away.^^ 

“Yes, but I want you to come with me,^^ said the boy, 
with an anxious and rather mysterious look. 

“ Very good — ^heave ahead,^^ said the boatswain, getting 
up, and following Corrie with a peculiarly nautical roll. 

After he had been led through the settlement and a con- 
siderable way up the mountain in silence, the boatswain 
suddenly stopped, and said: “ Hallo! hold on; my timbers 
won^t stand much more o’ this sort o’ thing. I was built 
for navigatin’ the seas — I was not for cruisin’ on the land. 
We’re far enough out of ear-shot, I s’pose, in this here bit 
of a plantation. Come, what have ye got to say to me? 
You ain’t a-goin’ to tell me the Freemason’s word, are ye? 
For, if so, don’t trouble yourself; I wouldn’t listen to it 
on no account, w’atever. It’s too mysterious, that is, for 
me. ” 

“ Dick Price,” said Coi’rie, looking uj) in the face of the 
seaman, with a serious expression that was not often seen 
on his round countenance, “ you’re a man.” 

The boatswain looked down at the youthful visage in 
some surprise. 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TKADEK. 223 

I s^pose I am/^ said he, stroking his beard com- 
placently. 

“ And you know what it is to be misunderstood, mis- 
judged, don^t you?^^ 

‘^Well, now I come to think on it, I believe I have had 
that misfortune — ‘specially w^en I Ve ordered the powder- 
monkeys to make less noise; for them younkers never do 
seem to understand me. As for misjudging I\e often 
an’ over again heard ^em say I was the Grossest feller they 
ever did meet with; but they never Avas more out in their 
reckoning.^ ’ 

Corrie did not smile; he did not betray the smallest 
symptom of power either to appreciate or to indulge in 
jocularity at that moment. But feeling that it was useless 
to appeal to the former experience of the boatswain, he 
. changed his plan of attack. 

‘‘ Dick Price, said he, “ iPs a hard case for an inno- 
cent man to be hanged. 

“ So it is, boy — oncommon hard. I once knowM a poor 
feller as was hanged for murderin^ his old grandmother. 
It was afterward found out that he never done the deed; 
but he was the most incorrigible thief and poacher in the 
whole place; so it wasnH such a mistake, after all. 

“ Dick Price, said Corrie, gravely, at the same time 
laying his hand impressively on his companion's arm, “ I^m 
a tremendous joker — aioful fond o’ fun and skylarkin^ " 

“ ^Pon my word, lad, if youhadn^t said so yourself, I^d 
scarce have believed it. You don^t look like it just now, 
by no manner o^ means. ^ ^ 

“But I am, though, continued Corrie; “and I tell 
you that in order to show you that I am very, very much 
in earnest at this moment, and that you must give your 
mind to what I^ve got to say.^^ 

The boatswain was impressed by the fervor of the boy. 
He looked at him in surprise for a few seconds, then 
nodded his head, and said, “ Fire away!"" 

“You know that Gascoyne is in prison!"" said Corrie. 

“ In course I does. That"s one rascally pirate less on 
the seas, anyhow. "" 

“ He is not so bad as you think, Dick."" 

“ Whew!"" whistled the boatswain. “ You"re a friend of 
, his, are ye?"" 

“ No, not a friend; but neither am I an enemy. You 


224 : 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADER. 


know he saved my life, and the lives of two of my friends, 
and of your own captain, too. 

“ Well, there^s no denying that; but he must have been 
the means of takin^ away more lives than what he has 
saved. 

“ No, he hasn%^' cried Corrie, eagerly. That^s it, 
that^s just the point; he has saved more than ever he took 
away, and he^s sorry for what he has done; yet they^re go- 
ing to hang him. Now, I say, that^s sinful — it^s not just. 
It sha^n^t be done, if I can prevent it; and you must help 
me to get him out of this scra23e — ^you must, indeed, Dick 
Price. 

The boatswain was quite taken aback. He opened his 
oyes wide with surprise, and, joutting his head to one side, 
gazed earnestly and long at the boy, as if he had been a 
rare old painting. 

Before he could reply, the furious barking of a dog at- 
tracted Corrie’s attention. He knew it to be the voice of 
Toozle. Being well acquainted with the locality of Aliceas 
tree, he at once concluded that she was there; and knowing 
that she would certainly side with him, and that the side 
she took must necessarily be the winning side, he resolved 
to bring Dick Price within the fascination of her influence. 

‘‘ Come, follow me,^^ said he; ‘‘ weTl talk it over with a 
friend of mine. 

The seaman followed the boy obediently, and in a few 
minutes stood beside Alice. 

Corrie had expected to find her there, but he had not 
counted on meeting with Poopy and Jo Bumpus. 

Hallo, Grampus! is that you?^^ 

“ Wot! Corrie, my boy, is if yourself? Give us your 
flip23er, small though it be. I didnT think IM niver see 
ye ag^in, lad.-’^ 

‘‘No more did I, Grampus; it was very nearly all up 
with us.^^ 

“ Ah, my boy!^^ said Bumpus, becoming suddenly very 
gave, “ yoif ve no notion how near it was all up with me. 
Why, you wonT believe it, I was all but scragged.’^ 

“ Dear me! whaf is scragged?’^ inquired Alice. 

“You donT mean to say you doiPt know exclaimed 
Bum]3us. 

“No, indeed, I donT.^^ 

“ Why, it means bein^ hanged. I was so near hanged, 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADER. 225 

just a day or two back, that IVe had an ^orrible pain in 
my neck ever since at the bare thought of it! But who^s 
your friend said Bumpus, turning to the boatswain. 

‘‘Oh! I forgot him — he^s the boatswain of the ‘ Talis- 
man. ^ Dick Price, this is my friend John Bumpus. 

“ Glad to know you, Dick Price. 

“ Same to you, and luck, John Bumpus. 

The two sea-dogs joined their enormous palms, and shook 
hands cordially. 

After these two had indulged in a little desultory conver- 
sation, Will Corrie, who, meanwhile, consulted with Alice 
in an under-tone, brought them back to the point that was 
uppermost in his mind. 

‘ Now,^^ said he, “it comes to this — we must not let 
Gascoyne be hanged.^^ 

“Why, Corrie cried Bumpus, in surprise, “that’s 
the very thing I was a-thinkin’ of w’en I corned up here 
and found Miss Alice under the tree. ” 

“I’m glad to hear that, Jo; it’s what has been on my 
own mind all the morning. But Dick Price, he is not con- 
vinced that he deserves to escape. Now you tell him all 
^ou know about Gascoyne, and I’ll tell him all I know; 
and if he don’t believe ns, Alice and Poopy will tell him 
all they know; and if that won’t do, you and I will take 
him up by the legs and pitch him into the sea!” 

“ That bein’ how the case stands, fire away,” said Dick 
Price, with a grin, sitting down on the grass and busily 
filling his pipe. 

Dick was not so hard to be convinced as Corrie had 
feared. The glowing eulogiums of Bumpus, and the 
earnest pleadings of Alice, won him over very soon. He 
finally agreed to become one of the conspirators. 

“But how is the thing to be done?” asked Corrie, in 
some perplexity. 

“Ah! that’s the p’int,” observed Dick, looking pro- 
foundly wise. 

“ Nothin’ easier,” said Bumpus, whose jfipe was by this 
time keeping pace with that of his new friend. “ The case 
is as clear as mud. Here’s how it is. Gascoyne is in 
limbo; well, we are out of limbo. Good. Then, all we’ve 
got for to do is to break into limbo and shove Gascoyne out 
of limbo, and help him to escape. It’s all square, you see, 
lads.” 


8 


226 


GASCOYKE, THE SAHDAL-WOOD TKADEK. 


“ Not SO square as you seem to think/ said Henry 
Stuart, who at that moment stepped from behind the stem 
of the tree, which had prevented the party from observing 
his approach. 

“ Why not?^^ said Bumpus, making room for the young 
man to sit beside Alice on the grass. . 

“ Because, said Henry, Gascoyne won^’t agree to 
escape. 

‘‘ Not agree for to escape 

‘‘No. If the prison doors were opened at this moment, 
he would not walk out. 

Bumpus became very grave, and shook his head. “ Are 
ye sartin snreo^ this?^^ said he. 

“ Quite sure,"’"’ replied Henry, who now detailed part of 
his recent conversation with the pirate captain. 

“ Then it^s all up with him!^'’ said Bumpus; “ and the 
pirate will meet his doom, as I once heard a feller say in a 
play — though X little thought to see it acted in reality. 

“ So he will,^^ added Dick Price. 

Corrie^s countenance fell, and Alice grew pale. Even 
Poopy and Toozle looked a little depressed. 

“No; it is not all up with him,^^ cried Henry Stuart,, 
energetically. “ I have a plan in my head which I think 
will succeed, but I must have assistance. It wonT do, 
however, to discuss this before our young friends. I must 
beg of Alice and Poopy to leave us. I do not mean to say 
I could not trust you, Alice, but the plan must be made 
known only to those who have to act in this matter. Eest 
assured, dear child, that I shall do my best to make it suc- 
cessful. 

Alice sprung up at once. “ My father told me to follow 
him some time said she. “ I have been too long of 

doing so already. I do hope you will succeed.'’^ 

So saying, and with a cheerful “ Good-bye!'’-’ the little girl 
ran down the mountain-side, closely followed by Toozle and 
Poopy. 

As soon as she was gone, Henry turned to his companions 
and unfolded to them his plan — the details and carrying out 
of which, however, we must reserve for another chapter. 


GASCOYlsM-:^ THE SAKDAL-WOOD TRADER. 


227 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

RUMPUS IS PERPLEXED. — MY'STERIOUS COMMUNINGS, AND 
A CURIOUS LEAVE-TAKING. 

“ It^s a puzzler/^ said Jo Bumpiis to himself — for Jo 
was much in the habit of conversing with himself; and a 
very good habit it is, one that is often attended with much 
profit to the individual, when the conversation is held upon 
right topics and in a proper spirit — ‘‘ it’s a puzzler, it is; 
that’s a fact.” 

Having relieved his mind of this observation, the seaman 
proceeded to cut down some tobacco, and looked remarka- 
bly grave and solemn as if “ it ” were not only a puzzler, 
but an alarmingly serious puzzler. 

Yes, it’s the biggest puzzler as ever I corned across,” 
said he, filling his pipe; for John, when not roused, got on 
both mentally and physically by slow stages. 

“ Xivgr know’d its equal,” he continued, beginning to 
smoke, which operation, as the pipe did not “ draw ” well 
at first, prevented him from saying anything more. 

It was early morning when Bumpus said all this, and the 
mariner was enjoying his morning pipe in a reclining atti- 
tude on the grass beneath Alice Mason’s favorite tree, from 
which commanding position he gazed ajDprovingly on the 
aiagnificent prospect, of land and sea wliich lay before him, 
bathed in the light of the rising sun. 

It is wery koorious,” continued John, taking his ^lipe 
out of his mouth and addressmg himself to it with much 
gravity — tuery koorious. Things always seems wot they 
isn’t, and turns out to be wot they didn’t appear as if they 
wasn’t; wery odd indeed, it is! Only to think that this 
here sandal- wood trader should turn out for to be Henry’s 
father and the widow’s mother — or, I mean, the widow’s 
husband — an’ a pirate, an’ a deliverer o’ little boys and 
girls out o’ pirates’ hands — his own hands, so to speak — 
not to mention captings in the royal navy, an’ not sich a 
bad feller after all, as won’t have his liberty on no account 
wotiver, even if it was gived to him for nothin’, and yet 
wot can’t get it if he wanted it iver so much; and to think 
that Jo Bumpus should come for to lend hisself to — 


228 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADER. 


Hallo! Jo, back yer fcopsJs! Didn^t Henry tell ye that ye 
wasn^t to convarse upon that there last matter even with 
yerself, for fear o^ bein^ overheard and spMlin^ the whole 
affair? Come, 1^11 refresh myself."’^ 

The refreshment in which Jo proposed to indulge was of 
a peculiar kind which never failed him — it was the perusal 
of Susan^s love-letter. 

He now sat up, drew forth the precious and much-soiled 
epistle, unfolded and spread it out carefully on his knees, 
placed his pipe very much on one side of his mouth, in 
order that the smoke might not interfere with his vision, 
and began to read. 

“ ‘ Peeler^ s Farm/-^ 2 ih.\ Susan, darling it^s Jo Bumpus 
as would give all he has in the world, including his Sunday 
clo^s, to be anchored alongside o^ ye at that same farm! — 
^ SanfransTcoP I misdoubt the spellin^ o^ that word, 
Susan, dear; it seems to me raither short, as if ye^d docked 
off its tail. Howsomdever — ‘ For John humpitss ^ — Oh, 
Susan, Susan! if ye^d only remember the big B, and there 
aiiiT two esses. I^m sure it's not for want o' tollin' ye, 
but ye was never great in the way ov memry or spellin'. 
Pr'aps it's as well. Ye'd ha' bin too perfect, an' that's 
not desirable by no means — ^ my darlin^ JoJ — ay, them’s 
the words. It's that as sets my 'art a-b'ilin' over like. " 

Here Jo raised his eyes from the letter, and reveled 
silently in the thought for at least two minutes, during 
which his pipe did double duty in half its usual time. 
Then he recurred to his theme; but some parts he read in 
silence, and without audible comment. 

Ay," said he, ‘ sandle-ivood slcooners the Haf ov thems 
pirits ' — so they is, Susan. It's yer powers o' prophesy as 
amazes me; ‘ an’ the other hafs no heter;’ a deal wus, 
Susan, if ye only know'd it. Ah! my sweet gal, if ye 
knew wot a grief that word ‘ heter ’ was to me before I dis- 
kivered wot it was, ye'd try to improve yer hand o' write, 
an' make fewer blots!" 

At this point Jo was arrested by the sound of footsteps 
behind him. He folded up his letter precipitately, thrust 
it into his left breast-pocket, and jumped up with a guilty 
air about him. 

‘‘ Why, Bumpus! we have startled you out of a morning 
nap, I fear," said Henry Stuart, who, accompanied by his 
mother, came up at that moment. “ We are on our way 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-AVOOD TRADER. 


229 


to say good-bye to Mr. Mason. As we passed this knoll I 
caught sight of you, and came up to ask about the boat. 

“ It^s all right, said Bumpus, who quickly recovered his 
composure — indeed, he had never lost much of it. IVe 
bin down to Saunder^s store and got the ropes for your — ^ ^ 

“ Hush, man! there is no need of telling what they are 
for,^^ said Henry, with a mysterious look at his mother. 

‘‘ Why not tell me all, Henry said Mrs. Stuart; 
‘‘ surely, you can trust rne?^^ 

Trust you, mother replied the youth, with a smile. 
‘‘ I should think so; but there are reasons for my not tell- 
ing you everything just now. Surely, you can trust me? 
I have told you as much as I think advisable in the mean- 
time. Ere long I will tell you all.-’^ 

The widow sighed, and was fain to rest content. She sat 
down beside the tree, while her companions talked together, 
apart, in low tones. 

“ Now Jo, my man,^^ continued Henry, one of our 
friends must be got out of the way. 

Wery good; Fm the man as ^11 do it.^^ 

‘‘ Of course I donT mean that he^s to be killed 1^^ 

In coorse not. Who is he?^^ 

Ole Thorwald. 

‘‘Wot! the descendant o^ the Sea Kings, as he calls him- 
self.^^^ 

“ The same,-’-’ said Henry, laughing at the look of sur- 
prise with which Bumpus received this information. 

“ What has he bin an’ done?” 

“He has done nothing as yet,” said Henry; “ but he 
will certainly thwart our schemes if he hears of them. He 
has an inveterate ill will to my poor father ” (Henry lowered 
his voice as he proceeded), “ and I know has suspicions that 
we are concocting some plan to enable him to escape, and 
watches us accordingly. I find him constantly hanging 
about the jail. Alas! if he knew how thoroughly deter- 
mined Gascoyne is to refuse deliverance unless it comes 
from the proper source, he would keep his mind more at 
ease.” 

“ Don’t you think if you wos to tell him that Gascoyne 
is yer father he would side with us?” suggested Bumpus. 

“ Perhaps he would. I think he would; but I dare not 
risk it. The easier method will be to outwit him.” 


^30 GASCOYis'E^ THE SANDAL- WOOD TKADEK. 

“ Xot an easy tiling for to do, Fm afraid; for he^s a cute 
old feller. Ho\y is it to be done?^^ asked Bumjius. 

‘‘ By telling him the truth/" said Henry; “ and you 
must tell it to liim."" 

“ Well, that 25 a koorious wa}^,"" said Bumpus, with a 
broad grin. 

But not the whole truth,"" continued Henry. ‘‘ You 
must just tell him as much as it is good for him to know, and 
nothing more; and as the thing must be done at once, I" 11 
tell you what you haye got to say."" 

Here the young man explained to the attentive Bumpus 
the course that he was to follow, and, having got him 
thoroughly to understand his part, he sent him away to 
execute it. Meanwhile he and his mother went in search 
of Mr. Mason, who at the time was holding a consultation 
with th6 chiefs of the native village, near the site of his 
burned cottage. The consultation had just been concluded 
when they reached the spot, and the missionary was con- 
versing with the native car23enter who snjDerintended the 
erection of his new home. 

After the morning greeting, and a few words of general, 
conversation, Mrs. Stuart said: “ We have come to talk 
with you in private; will you walk to A lice "s tree with us?"" 

“ Certainly, my friend; I ho^^e no new evils are about to 
befall us,"" said the missionary, who was startled by the 
serious countenances of the mother and son; for he was 
ignorant of the close relation in which they stood to Gas- 
coyne, as, indeed, was every one else in the settlement, ex- 
cepting Montague and his boatswain and Corrie, all of 
whom were enjoined to maintain the strictest secrecy on the 
point. 

“Ho; I thank God, all is well,"" replied Mrs. Stuart; 
“but we have come to say that we are going away. "" 

“ Going away!"" echoed the missionary, in surprise. 
“ Where! — whei’e to? — why? You amaze me, Mary. "" 

“ Henry will ex 2 )lain. "" 

“ The fact is, Mr. Mason,"" said Henry, “ circumstances 
require my absence from Sandy Cove on a longer trij) than 
usual, and I mean to take my mother with me. Indeed, 
to be plain with you, I do not think it likely that we shall 
return for a long time, perhaps not at all; and it is abso- 
lutely necessary that we should go secretly. But we could 
not go without saying good-bye to you. "" 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADER. 231 

‘^We owe much to you, dear Mr. Mason, cried the 
widow, grasping the missionary's hand and kissing it. 
“ We can never, never forget you; and will always pray 
for God^s best blessings to descend on you and yours. 

“ This is overwhelming news!^^ exclaimed Mr. Mason, 
who had stood hitherto gazing from the one to the other in 
mute astonishment. ‘‘But, tell me, Mary^^ (here ho 
sgoke^in earnest tones), “ is not Gascoyne at the bottom of 

“ Mr. Mason, said Henry, “ we never did, and never 
will deceive you. There is a good reason for neither ask- 
ing nor answering questions on this subject just now. I 
am sure you know us too well to believe that we think of 
doing what is wrong, and you can trust us — at least my 
mother — that we will not do what is foolish. ^ ^ 

“ I have perfect confidence in your hearts, my dear 
friends,^-' replied Mr. Mason; “ but you will forgive me if 
I express some doubt as to your ability to judge between 
right and wrong when your feelings are deeply moved, as 
they evidently are, from some cause or other, just now. 
Can you not put confidence in me? I can keep a secret, 
and may, perhaps, give you good counsel. 

“ Ho, 110,'’^ said Henry, emphatically; “ it will not do- 
to involve you in our affairs. It would not be right in us 
just noto to confide even in you. I can not explain why — 
you must accept the simple assurance in the meantime. 
Wherever we go, we can communicate by letter, and I pro- 
mise, ere long, to reveal all.-’^ 

“ Well, I will not press you further; but I will commend 
you in prayer to God. I do not like to part thus hurriedly, 
however. Can we not meet again before you go?^^ 

“We shall be in the cottage at four this afternoon, and 
will be very glad if you will come to us for a short time,-’^ 
said the widow. 

“ That is settled, then; I will go and explain to the 
natives that I can not accompany them to the village till 
to-morrow. AVhen do you leave 
“ To-night.-’^ 

“ So soon! Surely it is not — But I forbear to say 
more on a subject which is forbidden. God bless you, my 
friends; we shall meet at four. Good-bye 

The missionary turned from them with a sad counte- 
nance, and went in search of the native chiefs; while 


232 


GASCOYKE, THE SAHDAL-WOOD TEADEK. 


Heriry and liis mother separated from each other, the 
former taking the path that led to tlie little quay of Sandy 
Cove, the latter that which conducted to her own cottage. 


CHAPTER *XXX. 

MOEE LEATE-TAKING. — DEEP DESIGNS. — BUMPUS IN A 
NEW CAPACITY. 

On the particular day of which we are writing, Alice 
Mason felt an unusual depression of spirits. She had been 
told by her father of the intended deiiarture of the widow 
and her son, and had been warned not to mention it to any 
one. In consequence of this, the poor child was debarred 
her usual consolation of pouring her grief into the black 
bosom of Poopy. It naturally followed, therefore, that she 
ssought her next favorite — the tree. 

Here, to her surprise and comfort, she found Corrie, 
seated on one of its roots, with his head resting on the 
stem, and his hands clasped before him. His general ap- 
j:)earance was that of a human being in the depths of woe. 
On observing Alice, he started up, and assuming a cheerful 
look, ran to meet her. 

“Oh! I"m so glad to find you here, Corrie,^ ^ cried Alice, 
hastening forward; “ Fm in such distress! Ho you know 
that — Oh! I forgot papa said I was to tell nobody about 
itr^’ 

“ DonH let that trouble you, Alice, said Corrie, as they 
sat down together under the tree. “ I know what you 
were about to say — Henry and liis mother are going away. 

“ How do you know that? I thought it was a great 
secret !^^ 

“ So it is, a tremendous secret, rejoined Corrie, with a 
look that was intended to be very mysterious; “ and I know 
it, because I^ve been let into the secret, for reasons which 
I can not tell even to you. But there is another secret 
which you doiiH know yet, and which will surprise you, 
perhaps. I am going away, too. 

“ You!^^ exclaimed the little girl, her eyes dilating to 
their full size. 

“ Ay— me!^^ 

“ YoiFre jesting, Corrie. 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADER. ,233 

‘‘ Am I? I wish I was; but it^s a fact.-’^ 

But where are you going to?^^ said Alice, her eyes fill- 
ing with tears. 

I don^t know.^^ 

“ Corrie!” 

I tell you, I don^t know; and if I did know, I couldn^t 
tell. Listen, Alice; I will tell you as much as I am per- 
mitted to let out. ^ ^ 

The boy became extremely solemn at this point, took the 
little girLs hand, and gazed into her face as he spoke. 

‘‘You must know,^^ he began, “ that Henry and his 
mother and I go away to-night — 

“ To-night cried Alice, quickly. 

“ To-night, repeated the boy. “ Bumpus and Jackolu 
go with us. I have said that I donT know where we are 
going to, but I am pretty safe in assuring you that we are 
going somewhere. Why we are going I am forbidden to 
tell-^ivulge, I think Henry called it; but what that means 
1 donT know. I can only guess it^s another word for tell; 
and yet it can’t be that either, for you can speak of telling 
lies, but you can’t speak of divulging them. However, 
that don’t matter. But I’m not forbidden to tell you why 
I am going away. In the first place, then, I’m going to 
seek my fortune ! Where I’m to find it remains to be seen. The 
only thing I know is, that I mean to find it somewhere or 
other, and then ” (here Corrie became very impressive) 
“ come back and live beside you and your father — not to 
speak of Poopy and Toozle.” 

Alice smiled sadly at this. Corrie looked graver than 
ever, and went on : 

“ Meanwhile, during my absence I will write letters to 
you, and you’ll write ditto to me. I am going away be- 
cause I ought to go and be doing something for myself. 
You know quite well that I w^ould rather stop beside you 
than go anywhere in this wide world, Alice; but that 
would be stupid. I’m getting to be a man now, and 
mustn’t go on showin’ the weaknesses of a boy. In the 
second, or third place — I forget which, but no matter — I 
am going with Henry, because I could not go with a better 
man; and in the fourth — if it’s not the fifth — place. I’m 
going because Uncle Ole Thorwald has long wished me to 
go to sea; and, to tell you the truth, I would have gone 
long ago had it not been for you, Alice. There’s only one 


234 GASCO\KE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. 

thing that bothers me. Here Corrie looked at his fair 
companion with a perjdexed air. 

“ What is that?^^ asked Alice, sympathetically. 

“ It is that I must go without saying good-bye to Uncle 
Ole. I am ver^ sorry about it. It will look so ungrateful 
to him; but it cau’^ be helped. ” 

‘‘ Why not?^^ inquired Alice. If he has often said he 
wished you to go to sea, would he not be delighted to hear 
that you are going 

‘‘ Yes; but he must not know that I am going to-night, 
and with Henry Stuart. 

‘‘ AVhy not?’^ 

‘^Ah! that's the point. Mystery! Alice — mystery! 
What a world of mystery this is!" observed the precocious 
Corrie, shaking his head with profound solemnity. “ I've 
heen involved (I think that's the word), rolled up, 
drowned, and buried in mystery for more than three weeks, 
and I'm beginning to fear that I'll never again git into the 
un mysteriously happy state in which I lived before this 
abominable man-of-war came to the island. ISio, Alice; I 
dare not say anything more on that point, even to you, jt/sf 
moiu. But ivon^t I give it you all in my first letter? and 
U'onH you open your eyes until they look like two blue 
saucers?" 

Further conversation between the friends was interrupted 
at this point by the in-rushing of Toozle, followed up by 
PooiDy, and, a short time after, by Mr. Mason, who took 
Alice away with him, and left poor Corrie disconsolate. 

While this was going on, John Bumpus was fulfilling his 
mission to Ole Thorw&. 

He found that obstinate individual in his own parlor, 
deep in the investigation of the state of his books of busi- 
ness, which had been -allowed to fall into arrears during his 
absence. 

“ Come in, Bumpus. So I hear you were half hanged 
when we were away. " 

Ole wheeled round on his stool, and hooked his thumbs 
into the arm-holes of his vest, as he said this, leaned his 
back against his desk, and regarded the seaman with a 
facetious look. 

“ FT^/Z-hanged, indeed!" said Bumpus, indignantly. 
‘‘I was ‘more than half— three quarters, at least. Why, 
the worst of it's over when the ro^De's round your neck. "" 


235 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. 

‘‘That is a matter which you canT speak to, John 
Bumpus, seeing that you^^e never gone beyond the putting 
of the rope round your neck. 

“ Well, I^m content with wot I does happen to know 
about it,^^ remarked Jo, making a wry face; “ an’ I hope 
that I’ll never git the chance of knowin’ more. But T 
corned here on business, Mr. Thorwald ” (here John be- 
came mysterious, and put his finger to his lips). “ I’ve 
corned here, Mr. Thorwald, to — sj^Ut. ” 

As Ole did not quite understand the meaning of this 
word, and did not believe that the seaman actually meant 
to rend himself from head to foot, he said, “ Why, 
Bumpus! what d’ye mean?” 

“ I mean as how that I’ve corned to split on my com- 
rades; w’ich means. I’m goin’ to tell upon ’em.” 

“ Oh!” exclaimed Ole, eying the man with a look of 
distrust. 

“ Yes,” pursued Bumpus; “I’m willin’ to tell ye all 
about it, and prevent his escape, if you’ll only promise, on 
your word as a gin’lmun, that ye won’t tell nobody else * 
but six niggers, who are more than enough to sarve your 
turn. ” 

“ Prevent whose escape?” said Thorwald, with an excit- 
ed look. 

“ Gascoyne’s.” 

Ole jumped ofi his stool, and hit his left palm a sound- 
ing blow with his right fist. 

“ I knew it!” he exclaimed, staring into the face of the 
seaman. “I was sure of it! I said it! But how d’ye 
know, my man?” 

“Ah! I’ll not say another word if ye don’t promise to 
let me go free, and only take six niggers with ye. ” 

“ Well, Bumpus, I do promise, on the word of a true 
Norseman, which is much better than that of a gentleman, 
that no harm shall come to you if you tell me all you know 
of this matter. But I will promise nothing more; because 
if you won’t tell me, you have told me enough to enable 
me to take such measures as will prevent Gascoyne from 
escaping. ” 

“ No, ye can’t prevent it,” said Bumpus, with an air of 
indifference. “ If you don’t choose to come to my way o’ 
thinkin’, ye can take yer own coorse. But, let me tell 
you, there’s more people on the island that will take Gas- 


236 


GASCOYKE^ THE SANDAL-WOOD TKADEK. 


coyness part than ye tliink of. There ■’s the whole crew of 
the ‘ Talisman/ whose caphi he saved, and a lot besides; 
an^ if ye do come to a fight about it, yefil have a pretty 
tough scrimmage. Therefil be blood spilled, Mr. Thorwald, 
an’’ it was partly to prevent that as I corned here for. But 
you know best. You better take yer own way, an^ Ifil take 
mine.^^ 

The cool impudence of manner with whidi John Bumpus 
said this had its effect on Ole, who, although fond enough 
of fighting against enemies, had no sort of desire to fight 
against friends, especially for the sake of a pirate. 

“Come, Bumpus,^’ said he, “you and I understand 
each other. “ Let us talk the thing over calmly. IVe 
quite as much objection to see unnecessary bloodshed as 
you have. AYe have had enough of that lately. Tell me 
what you know, and I promise to do what you recommend 
as far as I can in reason. 

“ Do you promise to let no one else know wot I tell ye?^^ 

“Ido.^^ 

“ An' d'ye promise to take no more than six niggers to 
prewent his escape?" 

“ AYill six be enough?" 

Plenty; but, if that bothers ye, say twelve — I'm not 
partic'lar — say twelve. • That's more than enough; for 
they'll only have four to fight with. " 

“ AVell, I promise that too." 

“ Good. Now I'll tell ye all about it," said Bumpus. 
“ You see, although I'm splittin' I don’t want to get my 
iriends into trouble, and so I' got you to promise; an' I 
trust to yer word, Mr. Thorwald — you being a gen'lmun. 
This is how it is: Young Henry Stuart thinks that although 
Gascoyne is a pirate, or rather was a pirate, he don't de- 
serve to be hanged. 'Cause why? Firstly, he never com- 
mitted no murder; secondly, he saved the lives o' some of 
your people — Alice Mason among the rest; and, thirdly, he 
is an old friend o' the family as has done 'em good sarvice 
long ago. So Henry's made up his mind that, as Gas- 
coyne's sure to be hanged if he's tried, it's his duty to pre- 
went that there from happenin' of. Now, ye see, Gascoyne 
is quite willin' to escape — " 

‘ Ha! the villain!" exclaimed Ole; “ I was sure of that. 
I knew well enough that all his smooth-tongued humility 
■was hypocrisy. I'm sorry for Henry, and don't wish to 


GASCOY^TE, THE SAKDAL-WOOD TRADER. 


237 


thwart him; but it’s clearly my duty to prevent tliis escape 
if I can. 

‘‘ So I think, sir,^’ said Bumpus; “ so I think. That’s 
just w’at I said to meself w’en I made up my mind for to 
split. Gascoyne bein’ willin’, then, Henry has bribed the 
jailer, and he intends to open the jail door for him at 
twelve o’clock this night, and he’ll know w’at to do with 
his legs w’en he’s got ’em free. ” 

‘‘ But how am I to prevent his escape if I do not set a 
strong guard over the prison?” exclaimed Ole, in an ex- 
cited manner. If he once gets into the mountains, I 
might as well try to catch a hare.” 

“ All fair and softly, Mr. Thorwald. Don’t take on so. 
It ain’t two o’clock yet; we’ve lots o’ time. Henry has ar- 
ranged to get a boat ready for him. At twelve o’clock to- 
night the doors will be opened, and he’ll start for the. boat. 
It will lie concealed among the rocks off the Long Point. 
There’s no mistakin’ the spot, just west of the village; an’ 
if you place your niggers there, you’ll have as good chance 
as need be to nab ’em. Indeed, there’s tivo boats to be in 
waitin’ for the pirate captain and his friends — set ’em up!” 

“And where is the second boat' to be hidden?” asked 
Ole. 

“I’m not sure of the exact spot; but it can’t be very 
far off from the t’other, cer’nly not a hundred miles,” said. 
Bumpus, with a grin. “ Now, wot I w^ant is, that if ye 
get hold of the pirate ye’ll be content, an’ not go an’ peach 
on Henry an’ his comrades. They’ll be so ashamed o’ 
themselves at bein’ nabbed in the wery act that they’ll give 
’ ^ ’ -r.- then, go an’ give him 



But if ye try to i^rewent 


the escape bein’ attempted, Henry will take the bloody way 
of it; for I tell you, his birse is up, an’ no mistake.” 

“ How many men are to be with Gascoyne?” asked 
Thorwald, who, had he not been naturally a stupid man, 
must have easily seen through this clumsy attempt to blind 
him. 

“Just four,” answered Bumpus; “ an’ I’m to be one of 
’em.” 

“ Well, Bumpus, I’ll take your advice. I shall be at 
the Long Point before twelve, with a dozen niggers, and 
I’ll count on you lending ns a hand.” 


2SS GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADER. 

No, ye mustii^t count on that, Mr. Thorwald. Sure- 
ly, it"s enough if I run away and leave the others to fight. 

“Very well; do as you please, said Thorwald, with a 
look of contempt. 

“ Good-day, Mr. Thorwald. Youfil be sure to bethere?^^ 

“ Trust me."’^ 

“ An^ you'll not a word about it to nobody?" 

“ Not a syllable." 

“ That's all square. You'll see the boat w'en ye git 
there, and as long as ye see that boat yer all right. Good- 
day, sir. " 

John Bumpus left Thorwald's house chuckling, and 
wended his way to the widow's cottage, whistling the 
“ Groves of Blarney. " 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

THE AMBUSH. — THE ESCAPE. — RETRIBUTIYE JUSTICE. — AND 
CONCLUSION. 

An hour before the appointed time. Ole Thorwald, under 
cover of a dark night, stole out of his own dwelling, with 
slow and wary step, and crossed the httle plot of ground 
that lay in front of it, with the sly and mysterious air of a 
burglar rather than that of an honest man. 

Outside his gate he was met in the same cautious man- 
ner by a dark-skinned human being, the character of whose 
garments was something between those of a sailor and a 
West India planter. This was Sambo, Thorwald's major- 
domo, clerk, overseer, and right-hand man. Sambo was 
not his proper name; but his master, regarding him as be- 
ing the embodiment of all the excellent qualities that could 
by any possibility exist in the person of a South Sea 
Islander, had bestowed upon liim the generic name of the 
dark race, in addition to that wherewith Mr. Mason had 
gifted him on the day of his baptism. 

Sambo and his master exchanged a few words in low 
whispers, and then gliding down the path that led from 
the stout merchant's house to the south side of the village, 
they entered the woods that lined the shore, like two men 
bent on a purpose which might or might not be of the 
blackest possible kind. 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TKADER. 


239 


I don’t half like this sort of work, Sambo,” observed 
Thorwald, speaking and treading with less caution as they 
left the settlement behind them. “ Ambushments, sur- 
prises, and night forages, especially when they include 
Goat’s Passes, don’t suit me at all. I have a. strong antipa- 
thy to everything in the way of warfare, save a fair field, 
and no favor, under the satisfactory light of the sun.” 

“ Ho!” said Sambo, quietly; as much as to say, ‘‘ I hear 
and appreciate, but having no observation to make m re- 
ply, I wait for more from your honored lips. ” 

‘‘ Now, you see,” pursued Thorwald, “ if I were to fol- 
low my own tastes, which, it seems to me,. I am destined 
not to be allowed to do any more in the affairs of this world, 
if I may judge by the events of the y)ast month — if I were, 
to follow my own tastes, I say, I would go boldly to the 
prison where this pestiferous pirate captain lies, put double 
irons on him, and place a strong guard round the building. 
In this case I would be ready to defend it against any odds, 
and would have the satisfaction of standing up for the 
rights of the settlement like a man, and of hurling defi- 
ance at the entire British navy, at least such portions of it 
as happens to be on the island at this time, if they were to 
attempt a rescue — as this BumjDus hints they are likely to 
do. Yet it seems to me strange and unaccountable that 
they should thus interest themselves in a vile pirate. I 
verily believe that I have been deceived; but it is too late 
now to alter my plans, or to hesitate. Truly, it seemeth 
to me that I might style myself an ass, without impropri- 
ety. ” 

‘‘Ho!” remarked Sambo; and the grin with which the 
remark was accompanied seemed to imply that he not only 
appreciated his master’s sentiment, but agreed with it en- 
tirely. 

“ You’ve got eleven men, I trust. Sambo?” 

“ Yes, mas’r. ” 

“ All good and true, I hope — men who can be trusted 
both in regard to their fighting qualities and their ability 
to hold their tongues?” 

“ Dumb as owls, ebery von,” returned Sambo. 

“ Good! You see, my man, I must not permit that fel- 
low to escape; at the same time I do not wish to blazon 
abroad that it is my friend Henry Stuart who is helping 
him. Neither do I wish to run the risk of killing my 


240 GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADER. 

friends in a scrimmage, if they are so foolish as to resist 
me; therefore I am particular about the men you have told 
olf for this duty. Where did you say they are lo meet us?^^ 

‘‘ Close by de point, mas^r. 

A few minutes^ walk brought them to the point, where 
the men were awaiting them. As far as Ole could judge, 
by the dim light of a few stars that struggled through the 
cloudy sky they were eleven as stout fellows as any warrior 
could desire to have at his back in a hand-to-hand conflict. 
They were all natives, clothed much in the same manner 
as Sambo, and armed with heavy clubs; for, as we have 
seen, Thorwald was resolved that this should be a bloodless 
victory. 

“ Whereabouts is the boat?’^ whispered Ole to his hench- 
man, as he groped his way down the rocky slopes toward 
the shore. 

“ "Bout two hondr"d yards more farder in front,"" said 
Sambo. 

‘‘ Then I"ll place the men here,"" said Ole, turning to 
the natives, who were following close at his heels. Now, 
boys, remain under cover of this rock till I lead you on to 
the attack; and, mind what I say to you — no hilling! 
Some of the party are my friends; d"ye understand? I 
don"t want to do them a damage; but I do want to pre- 
vent their letting olf as great a villain, I believe, as ever 
sailed the ocean under a black flag — only his was a red one, 
because of his extreme bloody-mindedness, no doubt, which 
led him to adopt the color of blood. We will attack them 
in the rear; which means, of course, by surprise; though I 
must confess that style of warfare goes much against the 
grain with me. There are just four men, I am told, be- 
sides the pirate. Our first onset will secure the fall of at 
least two of the party by my own cudgel; and, mark me, 
lads, I don"t say this in the spirit of boasting. He would 
indeed be but a poor warrior who could not fell two men 
when he took them unawares and in the dark. No; I feel 
half ashamed o" the work; but I suppose it is my duty. So 
you see there will be just two men and the pirate left for 
us to deal with. Four of you ought to be able to overcome 
the two men without drawing blood, except, it may be, a 
little surface fluid. The remaining nine of us will fall on 
the pirate captain in a body. You will easily know him by 
his great size; and I have no manner of doubt but that he 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADER. 241 

will make himself farther known by the weight of his blows. 
If I happen to fall, clon^t look after me till you had over- 
come and bound the pirate. The ropes are all ready, and 
my man Sambo will carry them. 

Having delivered this address to his followers, who by 
their “ Ho^s and grins indicated their perfect readiness 
to do as they were bid. Ole Thorwald left them in ambush, 
and groped his way down to the beach, accompanied by 
Sambo. 

‘‘ Did you bring the chain and padlock. Sambo 

“ Yis, masY. But you no tink it am berer to take boat 
away — pull him out ob sight 

‘‘ No, Sambo; I have thought on that subject already, 
and have come to the conclusion that it is better to let the 
boat remain. You see they have placed it in such a way 
that as long as daylight lasted it could be seen from the 
settlement, and even now it is visible at some distance, as 
you see. If we were to remove^ it, they would at once ob- 
serve that it was gone, and thus be put on their guard. 
No, no. Sambo. I may not be fond of ambushments, but 
I flatter myself that I have some talent for such matters. ” 

The master and servant had reached the beach by this 
time, where they found the boat in the exact position that 
had been indicated by J ohn Bumpus. It lay behind a low 
piece of coral rock, fastened to an iron ring by means of a 
rope, while the oars lay in readiness on the thwarts. 

Sambo now produced a heavy iron chain, with which the 
boat was speedily fastened to the ring. It was secured with 
a large padlock, the key of which Ole placed in his pocket. 

This being satisfactorily accomplished, they returned to 
the place of ambush. 

“ Now, Mister Gascoyne, observed Thorwald, with a 
grim smile, as he sat down beside his men aiRi pulled out 
his watch, ‘‘ I will await your pleasure. It is just half- 
past eleven ; if you are a punctual man, as Jo Bumpus led 
me to believe, I will try your metal in half an hour, and 
have you back in your cage before one o^ clock! What say 
you to that. Sambo?" ^ 

The faithful native opened his huge mouth wide, and 
shut his eyes, thereby indicating that he laughed; but he 
said nothing, bad, good, or indifferent, to his master"s fa- 
cetious observation. The other natives also grinned, in a 
quiet but particularly knowing manner, after which the 


^42 GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADEK. 

whole joarty relapsed into profound silence, and h:ej)t their 
midnight watch with exemplary patience and eager exj)ect- 
ation. 

At this same hour the pirate captain was seated in his 
cell on the edge of the low bedstead, with his elbows rest- 
ing on his knees and his face buried in his hands. 

The cell was profoundly dark — so dark that the figure of 
the prisoner could scarcely be distinguished. 

Gascoyne did not move for many minutes; but once or 
twice a deep sigh escaped him, showing that, although his 
body was at rest, his thoughts were busy. At last he moved, 
and" clasped his hands together violently, as if under a 
strong impulse. In doing so, the clank of his chains echoed 
harshly through the cell. This seemed to change the cur- 
rent of his thoughts; for he again covered his face with 
both hands, and began to mutter to himself. 

“ Ay,^^ said he, ‘‘ it has come at last. How often I have 
dreamed of this when I w^s free and roaming over the wide 
ocean ! I would say that I have been a fool did I not feel 
that I have more cause to bow my head and confess that I 
am a sinner. Ah, what a thing pride is! How little do 
men know what it has cost me to humble myself before 
them as I have done! yet, I feel no shame in confessing it 
here, where I am all alone. Alone ? — am I alone 

For a long time Gascoyne sat in dee]5 silence, as if he 
were following out the train of thought which had been 
suggested by the last words. Presently his ideas again 
found vent in muttered S23eech: 

‘‘ In my pride I have said that there is no God. I don’t 
think I ever believed that; but I tried to believe it, for I 
knew that my deeds were evil. Surely my own words will 
condemn me; for I have said that I think myself a fool, 
and does not the Bible say that ‘ the fool hath said in his 
heart there -is no God^? Ay, I remember it well. The 
words were printed in my brain when I learned the Psalms 
of David atmymother^s knee, long, long ago. My mother! 
what bitter years have passed since that day! How little 
did ye dream, mother, that your cliild would come to this. 
God help me!^^ 

^ The j)irate relapsed into silence, and a low groan escaped 
him. But his thoughts seemed too powerful to be restrained 
within his breast; for they soon broke forth again in words. 

“ Your two texts have come true. Pastor Mason. You 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD LEADER. 243 

did not^ mean them for me; but they were sent to me. 

‘ There is no rest, saith my God, to the wicked.^ — Xo rest! 
I have not known rest since I was a boy. ‘ Be sure your 
sin shall find you out.^ I laughed at those words once; 
they laugh at me now. I have found them out to be true, 
and found it out too late. Too late! it too fate? If 
these words be true, are not all the words of God equally 
true? ‘ The blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanseth us 
from all sin. ■’ That was wdiat you said. Pastor Mason, on 
that Sunday morning wlien the savages were stealing down 
on us. It gave me comfort then; but, ah me! it seems to 
give me no comfort now. Oh, that I had resisted the 
tempter when he fi'^'st came to me! Strange! I often heard 
this said long, long ago; but I laughed at it — not in scorn; 
no, it was an easy indifierence. I did not believe it had 
an3d;hing to do with me. And now, I sui^pose, if I were to 
stand in the public streets and cry that I had been mis- 
taken, with all the fervor of a bursting heart, men would • 
laugh at me in an easy way — as I did then. 

I donT fear death. I have often faced it, and I don't 
remember ever feeling afraid of death. Yet I slirink from 
death noio. Why is this? What a mystery my thoughts 
and feelings are to me! I know not what to think. But 
it will soon be over; for I feel certain that I shall be 
doomed to die. God help me!^'’ 

Gascoyne again became silent. When he had remained 
thus a few minutes, his attention was roused by the sound 
of footsteps and of whispering voices close under his win- 
dow. Presently the key was put in the lock, the heavy 
bolt shot back, and the door creaked on its hinges as it 
opened slowly. • 

Gascoyne knew by the sound that several men entered 
the cell, but, as they carried no light, he could not tell 
how many there were. He was of course surprised at a 
visit at such an unusual hour, as well as at the stealthy 
manner in which his visitors entered; but, having made up 
his mind to submit quietly to whatever was in store for 
him, and knowing that he could not hoj)e for much tender- 
ness at the hands of the inhabitants of Sandy Cove, he 'vvas 
not greatly disturbed. Still, he would not have been hu- 
man had not his pulse quickened under the infiuence of a 
strong desire to spring up and defend himself. 

The door of the cell was shut and locked as quietly as it 


244 . GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADEK. 

had been opened; then followed the sound of footsteps 
crossing the floor. 

‘‘ Is that you, jailer?’ demanded Gascoyne. 

“ Ye’ll know that time enough,” answered a gruff 
voice, that was not unfamiliar to the prisoner’s ear. 

The others who had entered along with this man did not 
move from the door — at least if they did so, there was no 
sound of footsteps. The man who had spoken went to the 
window and spread a thick cloth over it. Gascoyne could 
see this, because there was sufficient light outside to make 
the arms of the man dimly visible as he raised them up to 
accomplish his object. The cell was thus rendered, if pos- 
sible, more impenetrably dark than before. 

“ Now, pirate,” said the man, turning round and sud- 
denly flashing a dark lantern full on the stern face of the 
prisoner, “ you and I will have a little convarse together — 
by yer leave or without yer leave. In case there might be 
pryin’ eyes about, I’ve closed the port-hole, d’ye see?” 

Gascoyne listened to this familiar style of address in sur- 
prise, but did not suffer his featui es to betray any emotion 
whatever. The lantern which the seaman (for such he evi- 
dently was) carried in liis hand threw a strong light wher- 
ever its front was turned, but left every other part of the 
cell in partial darkness. The reflected light was, however, 
quite sufficient to enable the prisoner to see that his visitor 
was a short, thick-set man, of great j)hysical strength, and 
that three men of unusual size and strength stood against 
the wall, in the deep shadow of a recess, with their straw 
hats pulled very much over their eyes. 

“ Now, Mr. Gascoyne,” began the seaman, sitting down 
on the edge of a sniail table beside the low pallet, and rais- 
ing the lantern a little, while he gazed earnestly into the 
prisoner’s face, “ I’ve reason to believe — ” 

“Ha! you are the boatswain of the ‘Talisman’!” ex- 
claimed Gascoyne, as the light reflected from his own 
countenance irradiated that of Dick Price, whom, of course, 
he had seen while they were on board the frigate together. 

“ No, Mister Pirate,” said Dick; “ I am not the bo’s’n 
of the ‘ Talisman,’ else I shouldn’t be here this night. I 
wos the bo’s’n of that unfortunate frigate, but I is so no 
longer. ” 

Dick said this in a melancholy tone, and thereafter medi- 
tated for a few moments in silence. 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADEK. 245 

No/Mie resumed, with a heavy sigh, ‘‘the ‘ Talis- 
man^s ^ blow’d up, an’ her bo’s’n’s out on the spree, so to 
speak — though it ain’t a cheerful spree, by no means. But 
to come back to the p’int (w’ich wos wot the clergyman 
said w’en he’d got so far away from the p’int that he never 
did get back to it), as I wos sayin’, or was agoin’ to say 
w’en you pre wen ted me, I’ve reason tob’lieve you’re agoin’ 
to try for to make yer escape.” 

“ You are mistaken, my man,” said Gascoyne, with a 
sad smile; “ nothing is further from my thoughts..” 

“ I don’t know how far it’s from yer thoughts,” said 
Dick, sternly, “ but it’s prettv close to your intentions, so 
I’m told.” 

“ Indeed you are mistaken,” replied Gascoyne. “ If 
Ca23tain Montague has sent you here to mount guard, he 
has only deprived you of a night’s rest needlessly. If I 
had intended to make my escape, I would not have given 
myself up. ” 

I don’t know that — I’m not so sure o’ that,” rejoined 
the boatswain, stoutly. “You’re said to be a obstinate 
feller, and there’s no sayin’ what obstinate fellers won’t do 
or will do. But I didn’t come here for to argify the ques- 
tion with you, Mister Gascoyne. Wot I corn’d here for 
wos to do my duty; so, now, I’m agoin’ to do it. ” 

Gascoyne, who was amused in spite of himself by the 
manner of the man, merely smiled, and’awaited in silence 
the pleasure of his eccentric visitor. 

Dick now set down the lantern, went to the door, and 
returned with a coil of stout rope. 

“ You see,” observed the boatswain, as he busied him- 
self in uncoiling and making a running noose on the rope, 
“I’m ordered to pre went you from carryin’ out your in- 
tentions — wotiver these may be — by puttin’ a coil or two 
o’ this here rope round you. Now, wot I’ve got to ask of 
you is. Will ye submit peaceable like to have it done?” 

“ Surely, this is heaping unnecessary indignity upon 
me I” exclaimed Gascoyne, flusliing crimson with anger. 

“ It may be unnecessary, but it’s got to be done,” re- 
turned Dick, with cool decision, as he placed the end of a 
knot between his powerful teeth, and drew it tight. 
“ Besides, Mister Gascoyne, a pirate must expect indigni- 
ties to be heaped upon him. However, I’ll heap as few as 
possible on ye in the discharge of my duty.” 


2iCj GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TKADER. 

Gascoyne liad started to his feet; but he sat down, 
abashed on being thus reminded of his deserts. 

“ True/^ said he; true. I will submit.'’^ 

He added in his mind, “ I deserve this;^^ but nothing- 
more escaped his lips, while he stood up and permitted the 
boatswain to pass the cord round his arms, and lash them 
firmly to his sides. 

Having bound him in a peculiarly tight and nautical 
manner, Dick once more went to his accomplices at the 
door, and returned with a hammer and chisel, and a large 
stone. The latter he placed on the table, and, directing 
Gascoyne to raise his arms — which were not secured below 
the elbows — and place his manacles on the stone, he cut 
them asunder with a few powerful blows, and removed 
them. 

“ The darbies ainT o^ no use, you see, as weVe got you 
all safe- with the ropes. How, Mister Gascoyne, I^m agoin^ 
to heap one more indignity on ye. Tm sorry to do it, d’ye 
see; but I^’m bound for to obey orders. YouTl be so good 
as to sit down on the bed — for I ainT quite so long as you, 
though I wonT say that I’m not about as broad — and let 
me tie this napkin over yer mouth. 

‘‘Why!^^ exclaimed Gascoyne, again starting and look- 
ing fiercely at the boatswain; “ this, at least, must be un- 
necessary. I have said that I am willing to submit quietly 
to whatever the law condemns me. You donT take me 
for a woman or a child, that will be apt to cry out when 
hurt?’'’ 

‘‘ Certainly not; but as I’m goin’ to take ye away out o’ 
this here limbo, it is needful that I should prewent you 
from lettin’ people know that yer goin’ on yer travels; for 
I’ve heerd say there’s some o’ yer friends as is plottin’ to 
help you to escape.” 

“ Have I hot said already that I do not wish to escape, 
and therefore will not take advantage of any opportunity 
afforded me by my friends? Friends! I have no friends! 
Even those who I thought were nay friends have not been 
near my prison all this day.” 

Gascoyne said this bitterly, and in great anger. 

‘‘Hush!” exclaimed Dick; “ not quite so loud. Mister 
Pirate. You see there is some reason in my puttin’ this 
on your mouth. It’ll be as well to let me do it quietly, 
else I’ll have to get a little help.” 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. 247 

He j)ointed to the three stout men who stood motionless 
and silent in the dark recess. 

Oh, it was cowardly of you to bind my arms before you 
told me this,^^ said Gascoyne, with flashing eyes. If my 
hands were free now — " 

He checked himself by a powerful effort, and crushed 
back the boastful defiance which rose to his lips. 

‘‘ Xow, 1^11 tell ye what it is. Mister Gascoyne, said 
Dick Price, I do believe yer no' such a bad feller as they 
say ye are, an^ I^m disposed to be marciful to ye. If ye^ll 
give me your word of honor that you^ll not holler out, and 
that youfll go with us peaceably, and do wot yer bid, Pll 
not trouble you with the napkin, nor bind ye up more than 
I Ve done already. But (here Dick spoke in tones that could 
not be misunderstood), ‘‘ if ye won^t give me that promise, 
Ifll gag ye and bind ye neck and heels, and wefll carry ye 
out O'’ this, shoulder high. Now, wot say ye to that?^^ 

Gascoyne had calmed his feelings while the boatswain 
was speaking. He even smiled when he replied, “ How 
can you ask me to give my word of honor? What honor 
has a pirate to boast of, think you?^^ 

‘‘ Not much, p^r^aps,^^ said Dick; “ howsomdever. I’ll 
be content with wot’s left of it; and if there ain’t none, 
why, then, give us yer word. It’ll do as well.” 

‘‘ After all, it matters little what is done with me,” said 
Gascoyne, in a resigned voice. “I am a fool to resist 
thus. You need not fear that I will offer any further re- 
sistance, my man. Do your duty, whatever that may be. ” 
That won’t do,” said Dick, stoutly; ye must promise 
not to holler out. ” 

‘‘I 251’omise,” said Gascoyiie, sternl^L ‘‘Pray cease 
this trifling; and, if it is not inconsistent with your duty, 
let me know where I am to be taken to. ” 

“ That’s just wot I’m not allowed for to tell. But 
you’ll find it out in the coorse of time. Now, all that 
you’ve got to do is to walk by my side, and do wot I tell 
ye.” 

The prisoner made no answer. He was evidently weary 
of the conversation, and his thoughts were already wander- 
ing on other subjects. 

The door was now unlocked by one of the three men who 
stood near it. As its hinges creaked, Dick shut the 
lantern, and threw the cell at once into total dfl,rkness. 


248 GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. 

Taking hold of Gascoyne wrist gently, as if to guide, not 
to force him away, he conducted him along the short 
passage that led to the outer door of the prison. This was 
opened, and the whole party stood in the open air. 

Gascoyne looked with feelings of curiosity at the men 
who surrounded him; but the night was so intensely dark 
that their features were invisible. He could just discern the 
outlines of their figures, which were enveloped in large 
cloaks. He was on the point of speaking to them, when 
he remembered his promise to make no noise; so he re- 
strained himself, and followed his guard in silence. 

Dick and another man walked at his side, the rest 
followed in rear. Leading him round the outskirts of the 
village, toward its northern extremity, Gascoyne^s conduct- 
ors soon brought him to the beach, at a retired spot, where 
was a small bay. Here they were met by one whose 
stature proved him to be a boy. He glided up to Dick, 
who said, in a low whisper: 

Is all ready?” 

‘‘ All light,^' replied the boy, in a whisper. 

“ The ooman aboard?” 

-Ay.” 

- How, Mr. Gascoyne,” said Dick, pointing to a large boat 
floating beside the rocks on which they stood, - youfil be 
so good as to step into that ^ere boat, and sit down beside 
the individual you see a-sitting in the stern-sheets. ” 

- Have you authority for what you do?'’ ^ asked Gascoyne, 
hesitating. 

- I have power to enforce wot I command,” said Dick, 
quietly. - Eemember yer promise. Mister Pirate, else — ” 

Dick finished his sentence by pointing to the three men 
who stood near — still maintaining a silence worthy of 
Eastern mutes; and Gascoyne, feeling that he was com- 
pletely in their power, stepped quickly into the boat, and 
sat down beside the individual ” referred to by Dick, 
who was so completely enveloped in the folds of a large 
cloak as to defy recognition. But the pirate captain was 
too much occupied with liis own conflicting thoughts and 
feelings to bestow more than a passing glance on the person 
who sat at his side. Indeed, it was not surprising that 
Gascoyne was greatly perplexed by all that was going on at 
that time; for he could not satisfactorily account to himself 
for the mystery and secrecy which his guards chose to 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TKADEK. 249 

maintain. If they were legitimate agents of the law, why 
these muffled oars, with which they swept the boat across 
the lagoon, through the gap in the coral reef, and out to 
sea? And if they were not agents of the law, who were 
they, and where were they conveying him? 

The boat was a large one, half-decked, and fitted to 
stand a heavy sea and rough weather. It would have 
moved sluggislily through the water had not the four men 
who pulled the oars been possessed of more than average 
strength. As soon as they passed the barrier re if, the 
sails were hoisted, and Dick took the helm. The breeze 
was blowing fresh off the land, and the water rushed past 
the boat as she cut swiftly out to sea, leaving a track of 
white foam behind her. For a few minutes the mass of 
the island was dimly seen rising like a huge shade on the 
dark sky, but soon it melted away, and nothing remained 
for the straining eyes to rest upon save the boat with its 
silent .crew and the curling foam on the black sea. 

We\e got him safe now, lads,""^ said Dick Price, 
speaking for the first time that night in unguarded tones. 
‘‘ TTouM better do the deed. The sooner it^s done the 
better. 

While he was sppeaking, one of the three men opened a 
large clasp-knife, and advanced toward Gascoyne. 

‘ ‘ Father, said Henry, cutting the rope that bound him, 
‘‘ you are free at last!^^ 

Gascoyne started; but before he had time to utter the 
exclamation of surprise that sprung to his lips, his hand 
was seized by the muffled figure that sat at his side. 

‘‘Oh, Gascoyne! forgive us — forgive me!*^ said Mary 
Stuart, in a trembling voice. “ I did, indeed, know some- 
thing of what they meant to do, but I knew nothing of the 
cruel violence that these bonds — 

“ Violence cried Dick Price. “ I put it to yourself. 
Mister Gascoyne, if I didnT treat ye as if ye wos a lamb?^^ 

“ Wot a blissin it is for a man to git his mouth open 
agin, and let his breath go free,^^ cried Jo Bumpus, with a 
deep sigh. “Come, Corrie, give us a cheer — hip! hip! 
hip! — 

The cheer that followed was stirring, and wonderfully 
harmonious; for it was given in a deep bass and a shrill 
treble, with an intermediate baritone “ Ho!^^ from Jakolu. 

“I know it, Mary — I know it,^^ said Gascoyne; and 


250 GASCOYNE, THE SAN HAL- WOOD TKADER. 

there was a slight tremor in his deep voice as he drew his 
wife toward him, and laid her head upon his breast. 

You have never done me an evil turn — ^you have done 
me nothing hut good — since you were a little child. 
Heaven bless you, Mary!^"’ 

“ How, father, said Henry, “ I suppose you have no 
objection to make your escape?^^ 

‘‘ Ho need to raise that question, lad,^^ said Gascoyne, 
with a perplexed smile. “ I am not quite clear as to what 
my duty is, now that I am free to go back again and give 
myself up.-’^ 

‘‘Go back! free!^^ exclaimed Jo Bumpus, in a tone 
of withering sarcasm. “ So* Mister Gascoyne, yeVe got 
sich an uncommon cargo o^ conceit in ye yet, that you 
actually think ye could go back without so much as saying. 
By your leave!'’^ 

While Jo was speaking, he bared to the shoulder an arm 
that was the reverse of infantine, and, holding it up, said, 
slowly: 

“ IVe often had a sort o^ desire, d^ye see, to try whether 
this bit of a limb or the one that^s round Mrs. Stuart^s 
waist is the strongest. How, if you have any desire to 
settle this question, just try to put, to shove, this boat^s 
head up into the wind — that^s all!^-’ 

This was said so emphatically by the pugnacious Bumpus 
that his companions laughed, and Oorrie cheered in admi- 
ration. 

“You see,^^ observed Henry, “ you need not give your- 
self any concern as to this point; you have no option in the 
matter. 

“ Ho, not a bit o’ poption in it wotiver; though wot that 
means I ain’t rightly sure,” said Dick Price. 

“ Perhaps I ought to exercise my parental authority over 
you, Henry,” said Gascoyne, “ and command you to steer 
back to Sandy Cove. ” 

“ But we wouldn’t let him. Mister Pirate,” said Dick 
Price, who, now that his difficult duties were over, was 
preparing to solace himself with a pipe; an example that 
was immediately followed by Bumpus, who backed liis 
friend by adding: 

“ Ho more we would.” 

“ Hay, then, if Henry joins me,” said Gascoyne, “I 


GASCOYKE, THE SAHDAL-WOOD TKADER. 


251 


think that we two will not have a bad chance against you 
three/ ^ 

“ Come, that’s good: so I count for nothing!” exclaimed 
Corrie. 

“Ha! stick up, lad,” observed Bumpus. “ The niggers 
wot you pitched into at the mouth o’ you cave didn’t think 
that — eh! didn’t they not?” 

“ Well, well; if Corrie sides with you, I feel that my 
wisest course is to submit. And now, Henry, ” said Gas- 
coyne, resuming his wonted gravity of tone and demeanor, 
“ sit down here and let me know where we are going, and 
what you mean to do. It is natural that I should feel 
curious on these, points, even although I have perfect con- 
fidence in you all.” 

Henry obeyed, and their voices sunk into low tones as 
they mingled in earnest converse about their future plans. 

Thus did Gascoyne, with his family and friends, leave 
Sandy Cove in the dead of that dark night, and sail away 
over the wide waste of the great Pacific Ocean. 

4 : ^ 

Eeader, our tale is nearly told. Like a picture, it con- 
tains but a small j)ortion of the career of those who have 
so long engaged your attention, and, I would fain hope, 
your sympathy. The life of man may be comprehensively 
eiDitomized almost to a point, or expanded out ad infini- 
tum. He was born, he died, is its lowest term. Its 
highest is not definable. 

Innumerable tomes, of encyclopaedic dimensions, could 
not contain, much less exhaust, an account of all that was 
said and done, and all that might be said about what was 
said and done, by our ci-devant sandal-wood trader and liis 
friends. Yet there are main points, amid the little details 
of their career, which it would be unpardonable to pass 
over in silence. To these we shall briefly refer before 
letting the curtain fall. 

There is a distant isle of the sea, a beautiful spot, an 
oceanic gem, which has been reclaimed by the word of God 
from those regions that have been justly styled “ the dark 
places of the earth.” We will not mention its name; we 
will not even indicate its whereabouts, lest we should fur- 
nish a clew to the unromantic myrmidons of the law, whose 
inflexible justice is only equaled by their pertmacity in 
tracking the criminal to his lair! 


252 GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TEADEK. 

On this beautiful isle, at the time of our tale, the churches 
and houses of Christian men had begun to rise. The 
natives had begun to cultivate the arts of civilization, and 
to appreciate, in some degree, the inestimable blessings of 
Christianity. The plow had torn up the virgin soil, and 
the anchors of merchant-ships had begun to kiss the strand. 
The crimes peculiar to civilized men had not yet been 
developed. The place had all the romance and freshness 
of a flourishing infant colony. 

Early one fine morning, a half -decked boat rowed into 
the harbor of this isle, and ran alongside the little quay, 
where the few natives who chanced to be lounging there 
were filled with admiration -at the sight of five stalwart 
men who leaped upon the rocks, an active lad who held 
the boat steady, and a handsome middle-aged woman, who 
was assisted to land with much care by the tallest of her 
five companions. 

There were a few small bales of merchandise in the 
boat. These being quickly tossed ashore, one of the 
natives was asked to show the way to the nearest store, 
where they might be placed in safe keeping. 

This done, the largest man of the party, who was clad in 
the rough garments of a merchant captain, offered his arm 
to the female, who was evidently his wife, and went off in 
search of the chief magistrate of the settlement, leaving 
his companions to look after the boat and smoke their 
pipes. 

The handsome stranger introduced himself to the magis- 
trate as Mr. Stuart; stated that he intended to settle on 
the island as a general merchant, having brought a few 
bales of merchandise with him; that he had been bred an 
engineer and a shipwright, and meant also to work at his 
old trade, and concluded by asking for advice and general 
information in regard to the state of trade on the island. 

After having obtained all the information on these sub- 
jects that the magistrate could give — insomuch that that 
functionary deemed him a perfect marvel of catechetical 
wisdom and agreeable address — the stalwart stranger pro- 
ceeded to inquire minutely into the state of religion and 
education among the natives and settlers, and finally left 
the charmed magistrate rejoicing in the belief that he was 
a most intelligent philanthropist, and would be an inesti- 
mable acquisition to the settlement. 


GASCOYKE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TRADER. 253 

A small trading-store was soon bnilt. The stranger was 
not a rich man. He began in a humble way, and sought 
to eke out his subsistence by doing the ordinary work of a 
Wright; In this latter occupation he was ably assisted by 
his stout son, Henry; for the duties of the store were at- 
tended to cliiefly by the lad Corrie, superintended by Mr. 
Stuart. 

The mysterious strangers were a source of much gossip 
and great speculation, of course, to the good people of 
Green Isle, as we shall style this gem of the Pacific, in 
order to thwart the myrmidons of the law! They found 
them so reserved and uncommunicative, however, on the 
subject of their personal affairs, that the most curious 
gossip in the settlement at last gave up speculating in 
despair. 

In other respects, the new family were noted for kindli- 
ness and urbanity. Mrs. Stuart, especially, became an 
intimate friend of the missionary who dwelt there, and one 
of his hardest-working parishioners. Mr. Stuart also be- 
came his friend; but the stern gravity of countenance, and 
reserved, though perfectly well-bred and even kindly man- 
ner of the stranger 'forbade close intimacy. He was a most 
regular attendant at church, not only on Sundays, but at 
the weekly prayer meetings and occasional festivals, and 
the missionary noticed that his Bible looked as if it were a 
well-thumbed one. 

At first the two seamen, whom people soon found out, 
were named respectively Jo and Dick, wrought in the 
wright^s workshop, and at all kinds of miscellaneous jobs; 
besides making frequent and sometimes long voyages in 
their boat to the neighboring islands. As time flew by, 
things seemed to prosper with the merchant. The keel of 
a little schooner was laid. Father and son and seamen (as 
well as the native servant, who w^as called Jako) toiled at 
this vessel incessantly until she was finished — then Henry 
was placed in. command of her, Jo and Dick were appointed 
first and second mates, two or three natives completed the 
crew, and she went to sea under the somewhat peculiar 
name of the “ Avenger. 

Tins seemed to be the first decided advance in the fort- 
unes of the new family. Business increased in a wonderful 
way. The ‘‘ Avenger returned again and again to the 
Green Isle laden with rich and varied commodities for the 


254 : GASCOYlsE^ THE SAKDAL-WOOD TRADEE. 

successful mercliant. In course of time the old store was 
taken down, and a new one built; the Avenger was 
sold, and a large brig purchased; the rather pretty name of 
which — ‘‘ Evening Star — was erased, and the mysterious 
word Avenger ^°put in its place. Everything, 'in short, 
betokened that Mr. Stuart was on the high-road to fortune. 

But there were some mysteries connected with the mer- 
chant which sorely puzzled the wisest heads in the place, 
and which would have j^uzzled still wiser heads had they 
been there. Although it soon became quite evident to the 
meanest capacity that Mr. Stuart was the richest man on 
the island, yet he and his family continued to occu^^y the 
poor, shabby, little, ill-furnished cottage which they had 
erected with their own hands when they first landed; and 
although they sold the finest silks and brocades to the 
wives and daughters of the other wealthy settlers, they 
themselves wore only the ifiainest and most somber fabrics 
that consisted with resj^ectability. 

People would have called them a family of misers but for 
their goodness of character in other respects, and for the 
undeniable fact that they were by far the most liberal con- 
tributors to the church and to the poor — ^not only in their 
own island, but in all the other islands around them. 

Another thing that puzzled the mercantile men of the 
place extremely was the manner in which Mr. Stuart kept 
his books of business. They soon began to take note that 
he kept two ledgers and two distinct sets of books — the 
one set small, the other set very bulky. Some of the 
more audacious among his customers ventured to peep over 
his shoulder, and discovered that the small set contained 
nothing but entries of boats made, and repairs to shipping 
executed, and work connected exclusively with the ship- 
wright department of his business — while the large books 
contained entries of those silks, and sugars, and teas, and 
sauces, etc., which turned so much gold into his coffers. 

It thus became evident to these men of business that the 
merchant kept the two departments quite separate, in order 
to ascertain the distinct profits on each. They were the 
more amazed at this when they considered that the shiji- 
wright work must necessarily be a mere driblet, altogether 
unworthy the attention of one so wealthy. But that which 
amazed them most of all was, that such a man, in such 
circumstances, could waste his time in doing with his own 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL-WOOD TRADER. 255 

hands the work of an ordinary mechanic — thus (as they 
concluded) entailing on himself the necessity of devoting 
much of the night to his more lucrative concern. 

These long-headed men of business little knew the 
man. They did not know that he was great in the highest 
sense of the term, and that, among other elements of his 
greatness, he possessed the power of seizing the little things 
— the little opportunities — of life, and turning them to the 
best account; and that he not only knew what should be 
done, and how to do it, but was gifted with that inflexible 
determination of purpose to carry out a design, without 
which knowledge and talent can never accomplish great 
things. The merchant did not, as they supposed, work 
late at night. He measured his time, and measured his 
work. In this he was like many other men in this strug- 
gling world; but he stuck to his time and to his work, in 
which respect he resembled the great few whose names 
stand prominent on the page of history. 

In consequence of this, Mr. Stuart wrought with success 
at both departments of his business, and while in the one 
he coined thousands, in the other he earned more than the 
average wages of a working-man. 

The Avenger was erratic and uncertain in her voy- 
ages. She evidently sailed to the principal islands of the 
South Seas, and did business with them all. From one of 
these voyages, Henry, her captain, returned with a wife — 
a dark-haired, dark-eyed, lady-like girl — for whom he built 
a small cottage beside his father '’s, and left her there while 
he was away at sea. 

It was observed by the clerks in Mr. Stuart^s counting- 
room, that their chief accountant, Mr. Corrie, was a great 
letter- writer — that when one letter was finished, he in- 
variably began another, and kept it by him, adding sheet 
after sheet to it until the “ Avenger returned and carried 
it off. Once Mr. Corrie was called hurriedly away while in 
the act of addressing one of these epistles. He left it lying 
on his desk, and *a small, contemptible, little apprentice 
allowed his curiosity so far to get the better of him, that he 
looked at the address,, and informed his companions that 
Mr. Corrie ^s correspondent was a certain Miss Alice Mason! 

Of course, Mr. Corrie received voluminous replies from 
this mysterious Alice; and, if one might judge from his ex- 
pression on reading these epistles , (as that contemptible 


256 GASCOYNE^ THE SANDAL-WOOD TKADER. 

little apprentice did judge), the course of his love ran 
smoother than usual; thus, by its exceptionality, proving 
the truth of the rule. 

Years jDassed away. The merchant's head became gray, 
but his gigantic frame was as straight and his step as firm 
as ever. His wife, strange to say, looked younger as she 
grew older! It seemed as if she were recovering from some 
terrible illness that had made her prematurely old, and 
were now renewing her youth. The business prospered to 
such an extent that, by becoming altogether too wonder- 
ful, it ceased to be a matter of wonder altogether to the 
merchants of the Green Isle. They regarded it as semi- 
miraculous — ^the most unprecedented case of ‘‘ luck that 
had ever been heard of it the annals of mercantile history. 

But the rich merchant still dwelt in the humble, almost 
mean cottage, and still wrought as an engineer and shi])- 
wright with his own hands. 

In the little cottage beside his own there were soon seen 
(and heard) three stout children, two boys and a girl, the 
former being named respectively Gascoyne and Henry, the 
latter Mary. It is needless to say that these were immense 
favorites with the eccentric merchant. 

During all this time there was a firm in Liverpool which 
received periodical remittances of money from an unknown 
source. The cashier of that firm, a fat little man, with a 
face like a dumpling and a nose like a cherry, lived, as it 
were, in a state of perpetual amazement in regard to these 
remittances. They came regularly, from apparently no- 
where, were acknowledged to nobody, and amounted, in 
the course of time, to many thousands. This firm had, 
some years previously, lost a fine vessel. She was named 
the Brilliant;^’ had sailed for the South Sea Islands with 
a rich cargo, and was never more heard of. The fat cashier 
knew the loss sustained by this vessel to a penny. He had 
prepared and calculated all the papers and sent duplicates 
on board; and as he had a stake in the venture, he never 
forgot the amount of the loss sustained. 

One day the firm received a remittance from the un- 
known, with a note to the following effect at the foot of it: 

This is the last remittance on the account of the 
^ Brilliant. ^ The value of the cargo, including compound 
interest, and the estimated value of the vessel, have now 
been re2:)aid to the owners.'’^ 


GASCOYKE, THE SAHDAL-WOOD TEADER. 257 

The fat cashier was thunderstruck! He rushed to his 
ledger, examined the account, calculated the interest, 
summed up the whole, and found it correct. He went 
home to bed, and fell sound asleep in amazement; awoke 
in amazement; went back to the office in amazement; 
worked on day after day in amazement; lived, and event- 
ually died, in a state of unrelieved amazement in regard to 
this incomprehensible transaction I 

About the same time that this occurred, Mr. Stuart en- 
tered his poor cottage, and finding his wife there, said: 

‘‘ Mary, I have sent off the last remittance to-day. I 
have made amends for that evil deed. It has cost me a 
long and hard struggle to realize the thousands of pounds 
that were requisite; for some of the goods had got damaged 
by damp in the cavern of the Isle of Palms; but the profits 
of my engineering and shipwright business have increased 
of late, and I have managed to square it all off, with in- 
terest. And now, Mary, I can do no more. If I knew of 
any others who have suffered at my hands, I would restore 
what I took tenfold ; but I know of none. It therefore 
remains that I should work this business for the good of 
mankind. Of all the thousands that have passed through 
my hands, I have not used one penny. You know that I 
have always kept the business that has grown out of the 
labors of my own hands distinct from that which has been 
reared on the stolen goods. I have lived and supported 
you by it, and now, through God’s blessing, it has increased 
to such an extent that I tliink we may afford to build a 
somewhat more commodious house, and furnish it a little 
better. 

‘‘ As for the mercantile business, it mus^ go on. It has 
prospered and still prospers. Many mouths are dependent 
on it for daily bre^. I will continue to manage it, but 
every penny of profit shall go in charity as long as I live. 
After that, Henry may do with it as he pleases. He has 
contributed largely to make it what it is, and deserves to 
reap where he has sown so diligently. Do you think I am 
right in all this, Mary?’’ 

We need scarcely remark that Mary did think it all right; 
for she and Gascoyne had no differences of opinion no^v. 

Soon after this, Corrie went off on a long voyage in the 

Avenger.” The vessel touched at San Francisco, and, 
while there, some remarkable scenes* took place between Jo 
9 


25S 


GASCOYNE, THE SANDAL- WOOD TEADEK. 


Bumpus and a good-looking woman whom iie called 
Susan. This female ultimately went on board the Aven- 
ger/^ and sailed in her for Green Isle. 

On the way thither they touched at one of the first of 
the South Sea Islands that they came in sight of, where 
scenes of the most unprecedented description took place be- 
tween Corrie and a bluff old gentleman named Ole Thor- 
wald, and a sweet, blue-eyed, fair-haired maiden named 
Alice Mason! 

Strange to say, this fair girl agreed to become a passen- 
ger in the “ Avenger;^’’ and, still more strange to say, her 
father and Ole Thorwald agreed to accompany her; also 
an ancient piece of animated door-matting called Toozle, 
and a black woman named Poopy, whose single observation 
in regard to every event in sublunary history was, Hee! 
hee!^^ 

On reaching Green Isle, Corrie and Alice were married, 
and on the same day Bumpus and Susan were also united. 
There was great rejoicing on the occasion. Ole Thorwald 
and Dick Price distinguished themselves by dancing an im- 
promptu and maniacal dedeiix at the double wedding! 

Of Captain Montague^s future career we know nothing. 
He may have been killed in the wars of his country, or he 
may have become an admiral in the British navy, for all 
we know to the contrary. One thing only we are certain 
of, and that is, that he sailed for England, in the pirate 
schooner, and seemed by no means to regret the escape of 
the pirate captain! 

Years rolled away. The head of Gascoyne became 
silvery white; but Time seemed impotent to subdue the 
vigor of his stalwart frame, or destroy the music of his deep 
bass voice. He was the idol of numerous grandchildren as 
well as of a large circle of juveniles, who, without regard to 
whether they had or had not a right to do so, styled him 
“ Grandfather.^^ 

Little did these youngsters think, as they clambered over 
his huge frame, and listened with breathless attention to 
his wild stories of sea, that “ grandfather had once been 
the celebrated and much-dreaded Durward the pirate! 

Nothing could induce Gascoyne to take a prominent part 
in the public affairs of his chosen home; but he did attempt 
to teach a class of the very smallest boys and girls in the 


GASCOYKE^ THE SAKDAL-WOOD TBADER. 


259 


missionary’s Sunday-school, and he came in time to take 
special delight in this work. 

He was never so happy as when telling to these little 
ones the story of redeeming love. In the choice of subjects 
for his class, he was somewhat peculiar as well as in his 
manner of treating them. He was particularly emphatic 
and earnest, used to fill his little hearers with awe, when he 
spoke of the danger of sin and the importance of resisting 
its beginnings. But his two favorite themes of all — and 
those which dwelt most frequently on his lips — were, ‘‘ God 
is love,” and, ‘‘ Love is the fulfilling of the law.” 


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AUTHOR’S LIST. 


Works by the author of “ Acldie’s 
Hiisbaiul.” 

388 Addie’s Husband ; or, Through 


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504 My Poor \tife 10 

Woi'ks by the author of “A Fatal 
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JM6 A Fatal Dower 10 

372 Phyllis’ Probation 10 

461 His Wedded Wife 20 

Works by the author of “ A Great 
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588 Cherry 10 

Works by the author of ‘‘A 
Woman s Love-Story.” 

322 A AVoman’s Love-Story 10 

677 Griselda 2o 

Mrs. Alexander’s Works. 

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17 The Wooing O’t 20 

62 The Executor 20 

189 Valerie’s Fate 10 

229 Maid, Wife, or AVidow? 10 

2.36 Which Shall it Be? 20 

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490 A Second Life 20 

564 At Bay 10 

Alison’s Works. 

194 “ So Near, and Yet So Far !” . . . 10 

278 For Life and Love 10 

481 The House That Jack Built 10 

F. Anstey’s Works. 

59 Vice VersS. 20 

225 The Giant’s Robe... 20 

603 The Tinted Venus. A Farcical 
Romance 10 


R. M. Ballautyue’s Works. 

89 The Red Eric 10 

95 The Fire Brigade 10 

96 Erling the Bold 10 

Anne Beale’s Works. 

188 Idonea 20 

199 The Fisher AHIlage 10 

Basil’s Works. 

344 “ The AVearing of the Green ” . . 20 

547 A Coquette’s Conquest 20 

585 A Drawn Game 20 


M. Betham-Ed wards’s Works. 


273 Love and Mirage; or, TheAVait- 

ing on an Island 10 

579 The Flower of Doom, and Other 

Stories 10 

594 Doctor Jacob 20 

Walter Besant’s Works. 

97 All in a Garden Fair 20 

137 Uncle Jack 10 

140 A Glorious Fortune 10 

146 Love Finds the AVay, and Other 

Stories. By Besant and Rice 10 

230 Dorothy Forster 20 

324 In Luck at Last 10 

651 “ Self or Bearer ” 10 

William Black’s Works. 

1 Yolande 20 

18 Shandon Bells 20 

21 Sunrise : A Story of These 

Times 20 

23 A Princess of Thule 20 

39 lu Silk Attire 20 

44 Macleod of Dare 20 

49 That Beautiful Wretch 20 

50 The Strange Adventures of a 

Phaeton 20 

70 AVhite AVings: A Yachting Ro- 
mance 10 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY.— Pocket Edition. 


William Black’s Works-Con- 
tinued. 

78 Madcap Violet 20 

81 A Daughter of Heth 20 

124 Three Feathers 20 

125 The Monarch of Mincing Lane. 20 

126 Kilmeny 20 

138 Green Pastures and Piccadilly . 20 
265 Judith Shakespeare: Her Love 

Affairs and Other Adventures 20 
472 The Wise Women of Inverness. 10 
627 White Heather 20 

R. D. Blackinore’s Works. 

67 Lorna Doone. 1st half 20 

67 Lorna Doone. 2d half 20 

427 The Remarkable History of Sir 

Thomas Upmore, Bart., M. P. 20 

615 Mary Anerley 20 

625 Erema; or, My Father’s Sin... 20 

629 Cripps, the Carrier 20 

630 Cradock Nowell. First half... 20 
GW Cradock Nowell. Second half „ 20 

631 Cliristowell. A Dartmoor Tale 20 

632 < 'lara Vaughan 20 

633 The Maid of Sker. First half. . 20 
6.G1 The Maid of Sker. Second half 20 

G16 Alice Lorraine. First half 20 

636 Alice Lorraine. Second half.. 20 

Miss M. E. Braddon’s Works. 

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.56 Phantom Fortune 20 

74 Aurora Floyd 20 

110 Under the Red Flag 10 

1.53 The Golden Calf 20 

201 Vixen 20 

211 The Octoroon 10 

2;14 Barbara; or. Splendid Misery. . 20 

263 An Ishmaelite 20 

315 The Mi.stletoe Bough. Edited 

by Miss Braddon 20 

434 Wy Hard’s Weird 20 

478 Diavola; or, Nobody’s Daugh- 
ter. Part 1 20 

478 Diavola; or. Nobody’s Daugh- 
ter. Part H ^ 

480 Married in Haste. Edited by 

Miss M. E. Braddon 20 

487 Put to the Test. Edited by Miss 

M. E. Braddon 20 

488 .Toshua Haggard’s Daughter.. . . 20 

489 Rupert Godwin 20 

495 Mount Ro}’’al 20 

496 Only a Woman. Edited by Miss 

M. E. Braddon 20 

497 The Lady’s Mile 20 

498 Only a Clod 20 

499 The' Cloven Foot 20 

511 A Strange World 20 

515 Sir Jasper’s Tenant 20 

521 Strangers and Pilgrims 20 

529 The Doctor’s Wife 20 

542 Fenton’s Quest 20 

.544 Cut by the County; or, Grace 

Darnel 10 

548 The Fatal Marriage, and The 

Shadow in the Corner 10 

( 2 ) 


549 Dudley Carleon ; or. The Broth- 


er’s Secret, and George Caul- 
field’s Journey 10 

552 Hostages to Fortune 20 

553 Birds of Prey 20 

554 Charlotte’s Inheritance. (Se- 

quel to “ Birds of Prey ”) 20 

557 To the Bitter End 20 

559 Taken at the Flood 20 

560 Asphodel 20 

.561 Just as I am ; or, A Living Lie 20 

567 Dead Men’s Shoes 20 

570 John Jlarchmont’s Legacy. ... 20 
618 The Mistletoe Bough. Christ- 
mas, 1885. Edited by Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

Works by Charlotte M. Braeme> 
Author of “Dora Thorne.” 

19 Her Mother’s Sin 10 

51 Dora Thorne 20 

54 A Broken Wedding-Ring 20 

68 A Queen Amongst Women 10 

69 Madolin’s Lover 20 

73 Redeemed by Love 20 

76 Wife in Name Only 20 

79 Wedded and Parted 10 

92 Lord Lynne’s Choice 10 

148 Thorns and Orange-Blossoms.. 10 

190 Romance of a Black Veil 10 

220 AVhich Loved Him Best? 10 

237 Repented at Leisure 20 

249 “ Prince Charlie’s Daughter ” . . 10 

250 Sunshine and Roses; or, Di- 

ana’s Discipline 10 

254 The Wife’s Secret, and Fair 

but False 10 

283 The Sin of a Lifetime 10 

287 At War With Herself 10 

288 From Gloom to Sunlight 10 

291 Love’s Warfare 10 

292 A Golden Heart 10 

293 The Shadow of a Sin 10 

294 Hilda 10 

295 A AVoman’s War 10 

296 A, Rose in Thorns 10 

297 Hilary’s Folly 10 

299 The Fatal Lilies, and A Bfide 

from the Sea 10 

300 A Gilded Sin, and A Bridge of 

Love. 10 

303 Ingledew House, and 3Iore Bit- 

ter than Death 10 

304 In Cupid’s Net 10 

305 A Dead Heart, and Lady Gwen- 

doline’s Dream 10 

306 A Golden Dawn, and Love for 

a Day 10 

307 Two Kisses, and Like no Other 

Love 10 

308 Beyond Pardon 20 

411 A Bitter Atonement ^ 

433 My Sister Kate 10 

459 A Woman’s Temptation 20 

460 Under a Shadow ^ 

465 The Earl's Atonement ^ 

466 Between Two Loves 20 

467 A Struggle for a Ring ^ 


TEE SEASIDE LIBRARY,— Pocket Edition. 


Works by Charlotte M. Braeme— 
Continued. 


469 Lady Damer’s Secret 20 

470 Evelyn’s Folly 20 

471 Thrown on the World 20 

476 Between Two Sins 10 

516 Put Asunder; or. Lady Castle- 

inaiue’s Divorce 20 

576 Her Martyrdom 20 

626 A Fair Mystery 20 

741 The Heiress of Hilldrop; or, 
The Romance of a Young 

Girl • 20 

745 For Another’s Sin ; or, A Strug- 
gle- for Love 20 


Charlotte Bronte’s Works. 

15 Jane Ej're 20 

67 Shirley 20 

llhoda Broughton’s Works. 

86 Belinda 20 

101 Second Thoughts 20 

227 Nancy 20 

645 Mrs. Smith of Longmains 10 

Robert Buchanan’s Works. 

145 “ Storm-Beaten God and The 

Man 20 

154 Annan Water ^ 

181 The New Abelard 10 

398 Matt; A»Tale of a Caravan 10 

646 The Master of the Mine 10 

647 Goblin Gold 10 

Captain Fred Burnaby’s Works. 

375 A Ride to Khiva 20 

384 On Horseback Through Asia 

Minor 7^... 20 


E. Fairfax Byrrne’s Works. 


521 Entangled 20 

538 A Fair Country Maid 20 

Hall Caine’s Works. 

445 The Shadow of a Crime 20 

520 She’s All the World to Me 10 

Rosa Noiichette Carey’s Works. 

215 Not Like Other Girls 20 

396 Robert Ord’s Atonement 20 

551 Barbara Heathcote’s Trial 20 

608 For Lilias 20 

Wilkie Collins’s Works. 

52 The New Magdalen 10 

102 The Moonstone 20 

167 Heart and Science 20 

168 No Thoroughfare. By Dickens 

and Collins 10 

175 Love’s Random Shot 10 

233 “ I Say No;’’ or. The Love-Let- 
ter Answered 20 

508 The Girl at the Gate 10 

591 The Queen of Hearts 20 

613 The Ghost’s Touch, and Percy 

and the Prophet 10 

623 M}’^ Lady’s Money 10 

701 Tlie Woman in White, 1st half 20 


701 The Woman in White. 2d hall 

702 Man and Wife. 1st half. -. 

702 Man and Wife. 2d half 

Hugh Conway’S Works. 

240 Called Back 

251 The Daughter of the Stars, and 
Other Tales 

301 Dark Days 

302 The Blatchford Bequest 

502 Carriston’s Gift 

525 Paul Vargas, and Other Stories 

544 A Family Affair 

601 Slings and Arrows, and Other 

Stories 

711 A Cardinal Sin 

J. Feniinore Cooper’s Works 


60 The Last of the Mohicans 

63 The Spy 

309 The Pathfinder 

310 The Prairie 

318 The Pioneers; or. The Sources 

of the Susquehanna 

349 The Two Admirals 

359 The Water-Witch 

361 The Red Rover 

373 Wing and Wing 

378 Homeward Bound; or, The 

Chase 

379 Home as Found. (Sequel to 

“Homeward Bound’’) 

380 Wyandotte; or. The Hutted 

Knoll 

385 The Headsman; or. The Ab- 

baye des Vignerons 

394 The Bravo 

397 Lionel Lincoln; or. The Leag- 
uer of Boston 

400 The Wept of Wish-Ton-Wish... 

413 Afloat and Ashore 

414 Miles Wallingford. (Sequel to 

“Afloat and Ashore’’) 

415 The Ways of the Hour 

416 Jack'l’ier; or. The Florida Reef 
419 TheChainbearer; or ,The Little- 


page Manuscripts 20 

420 Sataustoe; or. The Littlepage 

Manuscripts 20 

421 The Redskins; or, Indian and 

Injin. Being the conclusion 
of the Littlepage Manuscripts 20 

422 Precaution 20 

423 The Sea Lions; or. The Lost 

Sealers 20 

424 Mercedes of Castile; or. The 

Voyage to Cathay 20 

425 The Oak-Openings ; or. The Bee- 

Hunter 20 

431 The Monikins 20 


Gcorgiaua M. Craik’s Works. 


450 Godfrey Helstone 20 

606 Mrs. Hbllyer 20 

B. in. Croker’s Works. 

207 Pretty Miss Neville 20 

260 Proper Pride 10 

412 Some One Else 20 


8^8 8 8 B Bgggg BBBB* BS BSSSSo S BBB 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY.— Pocket Edition. 


May Croininelin’s Works. 

452 In the AVest Coiuitrie 20 

619 Joy; or, The Light of Cold- 

Home Ford 20 

Alphonse Daudet’s Works. 

534 Jack 20 

574 The Nabob: AStory of Parisian 

Life and Manners 20 

Charles Dickens’s Works. 

10 The Old Curiosity Shop 20 

22 David Copperfield. Vol. 1 20 

22 David Copperfield. Vol. II 20 

24 Pickwick Papers. Vol. 1 20 

24 Pickwick X’apei’s. Vol. II 20 

37 Nicholas Nickleby. First half. 20 
37 Nicholas Nickleby. Second half 20 

41 Oliver Twist 20 

77 A Tale of Two Cities 20 

84 Hard Times 10 

91 Barnaby Rudge. 1st half 20 

91 Barnaby Rudge. 2d half 20 

94 Little Dori’it. First half 20 

94 Little Dorrit. Second half 20 

106 Bleak House. First half 20 

106 Bleak House. Second half 20 

107 Dombey and Son. 1st half 20 

107 Dombey and Son. 2d half 20 

108 The Cricket on the Hearth, and 

Doctor Marigold 10 

131 Our Mutual Friend. (Isthalf). 20 

131 Our Mutual Friend. (2d half).. 20 

132 Master Humphrey’s Clock 10 

152 The Uncommercial Traveler. . . 20 

168 No Thoroughfare. By Dickens 

and Collins 10 

169 The Haunted Man 10 

437 Life and Adventures of Martin 

Chuzzlewit. First half 20 

487 Life and Adventures of Martin 
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439 Great Expectations 20 

440 Mrs. Lirriper’s Lodgings 10 

447 American Notes 20 

448 Pictures From Ital 5 %and The 

Mudfog Papers, &c 20 

454 The Mystery of Edwin Drood . . 20 
456 Sketches by Boz. Illustrative 
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676 A Child’s History of England. 20 

F. Dll Boisgoliey’s Works. 

82 Sealed Lips 20 

104 The Coral Pin. 1st half 20 

104 The Coral Pin. 2d half 20 

264 Pi6douche, a French Detective. 10 
328 Babiole, the Pretty Milliner. 

First half 20 

328 Babiole, the Pretty Milliner. 
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453 The Ix)ttery Ticket 20 

475 The Prima Donna’s Husband. . 20 

522 Zig-Zag, the Clown; or, Steel 

(jauntlets 20 

523 The Consequences of a Duel. A 

Parisian Romance 20 


648 The Angel of the Bells 

697 The Pretty Jailer. 1st half.... 

697 The Pretty Jailer. 2d half 

699 The Sculptor’s Daughter. 1st 

half 

699 The Sculptor’s Daughter. 2d 
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16 Phj’llis 

25 Mrs. Geoffrey 

29 Beauty’s Daughters 

30 Faith and Unfaith 

118 Loys, Lord Berresford, and 

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119 Monica, and A Rose Distill’d. . . 

123 Sweet is True Love 

129 Rossmoyne 

134 The AVitching Hour, and Other 

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136 “That Last Rehearsal,” and 

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166 Moonshine and Marguerites.... 

171 Fortune’s AVheel 

284 Doris 

312 A Week in Ki Harney 

342 The Baby, and One New Year’s 

Eve 

390 Mildred Trevanion 

404 In Durance Vile, and Other 

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486 Dick’s Sweetheart 

494 A Maiden All Forlorn, and Bar- 
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517 A Passive Crime, and Other 

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541 “ As It Fell Upon a Day.” 

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75 Twenty Years After 

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262 The Count of Monte-Cristo. 

Part I 

262 The Count of Monte-Cristo. 

Part II 

717 Beau Tancrede; or. The Mar- 
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3 The Mill on the Floss 

36 Adam Bede 

31 Middlemarch. 1st half 

31 Middlemarch. 2d half 

34 Daniel Deronda. 1st half 

34 Daniel Deronda. 2d half 

42 Rornola 

693 Felix Holt, the Radical 

707 Silas Marner: The Weaver of 


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728 Janet’s Repentance 10 


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558 Poverty Corner 20 

587 The Parson o’ Dumford 20 

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66 The Romance of a Poor Young 

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386 Led Astray; or, “La Petite 

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80 June 20 

280 Omnia Vanitas. A Tale of So- 
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484 Although He Was a Loi’d, and 

Other Tales 10 

715 I Have Lived and Loved 20 

721 Dolores 20 

724 My Lord and My Lady 20 

726 My Hero 20 

727 Fair Women 20 

729 Miguon 20 

732 From Olympus to Hades 20 

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744 Diana Carew ; or, For a Wom- 
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314 Peril 20 

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656 The Golden Flood. By R, E. 

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20 Within an Inch of His Life 20 

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26 Monsieur Lecoq. Vol. II 

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655 Cara Roma 


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143 One False, Both Fair 20 

358 Within the Clasp 20 

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72 Old Myddelton's Money 20 

196 Hidden Perils 10 

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224 The Arundel Motto 20 

281 The Squire’s Legacy 20 

290 Nora’s Love Test 20 

408 Lester’s Secret 20 

678 Dorothy’s Venture 20 

716 Victor and Vanquished 20 

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509 Nell Haffenden 20 

714 ’Twixt Love and Duty 20 

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506 Lady Lovelkce 20 

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90 Ernest Maltravers 20 

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half 20 

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162 Eugene Aram 20 

164 Leila; or, The Siege of Grenada 10 
650 Alice; or, The Mysteries. (A Se- 
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20 

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159 A Moment of Madness, and 

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183 Old Contrairy, and Other 

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208 The Ghost of Charlotte Cray, 

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276 Under the Lilies and Roses 10 

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449 Peeress and Player 20 

689 The Heir Presumptive 20 

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88 The Privateersman 20 

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438 Found Out 10 

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673 Story of a Sin 20 

713 “Cherry Ripe” 20 

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121 Maid of Athens 20 

602 Camiola 20 

685 England Under Gladstone. 

1880—1885 20 


747 Our Sensation Novel. Edited 
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Works. 

267 Laurel Vane; or. The Girls’ 

Conspiracy 20 

268 Lady Gay’s Pride; or, The 

Miser’s Treasure 20 

269 Lancaster’s Choice 20 

316 Sworn to Silence; or. Aline 

Rodney’s Secret 20 

Jean Middlemas’s Works. 

155 Lady MuriePs Secret 20 

539 Silvermead 20 

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172 “Golden Girls” 20 

346 Tumbledown Farm 10 

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11 John Halifax, Gentleman 20 

245 Miss Tommy 10 

David Christie Murray’s Works. 

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195 “ The Way of the World ” 20 

320 A Bit of Human Nature 10 

661 Rainbow Gold 20 

674 First Person Singular 20 

691 Valentine Strange 20 

695 Hearts: Queen, Knave, and 

Deuce 20 

698 A Life’s Atonement 20 

737 Aunt Rachel 10 


Works by the author of “ My 
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376 The Crime of Christmas Day. 10 
596 My Ducats and My Daughter. .. 20 

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184 Thirlby Hall 20 

277 A Man of His Word 10 

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500 Adrian Vidal. 20 

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47 Altiora Peto 20 

537 Piccadilly 10 

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45 A Little Pilgrim 10 

177 Salem Chapel 20 

205 The Minister’s Wife 30 

321 The Prodigals, and Their In- 
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337 Memoirs and Resolutions of 
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the Borough of Fendie 20 

345 Madam 20 

351 The House on the Moor 20 

357 John 20 

370 Lucy Crofton 10 

371 Margaret Maitland 20 

377 Magdalen Hepburn : A Storj"^ of 

the Scottish Reformation 20 

402 Lilliesleaf ; or. Passages in the 
Life of Mrs Margaret Mait- 
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410 Old Lady Mary 10 

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528 At His Gates 20 

568 1'he Perpetual Curate 20 

569 Harry Muir 20 

603 Agnes. 1st half 20 

603 Agnes. 2d half 20 

604 Innocent. 1st half 20 

604 Innocent, 2d half 20 

605 Ombra 20 

645 Oliver’s Bride 10 

655 The Open Door, and The Por- 
trait 10 

687 A Country Gentleman 20 

703 A House Divided Against Itself 20 
710 The Greatest Heiress in England 20 

“ Ouida’s ” Works. 

4 Under Two Flags 20 

9 Wanda, Countess von Szalras.. 20 

116 Moths 20 

128 Afternoon and Other Sketches. 10 

226 Friendship 20 

228 Princess Napraxine ^ 

238 Pascarel ^ 

239 Signa 20 

433 A Rainy June 10 

639 Othmar 20 

071 Don Gesualdo 10 

672 In Maremma. First half 20 

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186 The Canon’s Ward 20 

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589 The Luck of the Darrells 20 

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660 The Scottish Chiefs. 1st half.. 20 
660 The Scottish Chiefs. 2d half.. ^ 
696 Thaddeus of Warsaw 20 

Cecil Power’s Works. 

336 Philistia 20 

611 Babylon 20 

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428 Zero: A Story of Monte-Carlo. 10 
477 Affinities 10 

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173 The Foreigners 20 

3;il Gerald 20 

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46 Very Hard Cash 20 

98 A Woman-Hater ^ 

206 The Picture, and Jack of All 

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210 Readiana: Comments on Cur- 
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213 A Terrible Temptation 20 

214 Put Yourself in His Place 20 

216 Foul Play 20 

231 Griffith Gaimt; or, Jealousy... 20 

232 Love and Money ; or, A Perilous 

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935 “ It is Never Too Late to 
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71 A Struggle for Fame 20 

693 Berna Boyle 20 

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598 ” Corinna.” A Study 10 

617 Like Dian’s Kiss 20 


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217 The Man She Cared For 20 

261 A F'air Maid 20 

455 Lazarus in London 20 


590 The Courting of Mary Smith. . . 20 


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85 A Sea Queen 20 

109 Little Loo 20 

180 Round the Galle}’ Fire 10 

209 John Holdswortli, Chief Mate.. 10 

^3 A Sailor’s Sweetheart 20 

592 A Strange Voyage 20 

682 In the Middle Watch. Sea 

Stories 20 

743 Jack’s Courtship, i.sthalf 20 

743 Jack’s Courtship. 2d half. ... 20 

( 7 ) 


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28 Ivanhoe 20 

201 The Monastery 20 

202 The Abbot. (Sequel to “The 

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353 The Black Dwarf, and A Le- 
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362 The Bride of Lammermoor 20 

363 The Surgeon’s Daughter 10 

364 Castle Dangerous 10 

391 The Heart of Mid-Lothian 20 

392 Peveril of the Peak 20 

393 The Pirate 20 

401 Waverley 20 

417 The Fair Maid of Perth ; or, St. 

Valentine’s Day 20 

418 St. Ronan’s Well 20 

463 Redgauntlet. A Tale of the 

Eighteenth Century 20 

507 Chronicles of the Canongate, 
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William Sime’s Works. 

429 Boulderstone ; or. New Men and 

Old Populations 10 

580 The Red Route 20 

597 Haco the Dreamer 10 

649 Cradle and Spade 20 

Hawley Smart’s Works. 

348 From Post to Finish. A Racing 

Romance 20 

367 Tie and Trick 20 

550 Struck Down 10 

Frank E. Smedley’s Works. 

333 Frank Fairlegh; or. Scenes 
from the Life of a Private 

Pupil 20 

562 Lewis Arundel; or. The Rail- 
road of Life 20 

T. W. Speight’s Works. 

150 For Himself Alone 10 

653 A Barren Title 10 

Robert Louis Stevenson’s Works. 

686 Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and 

Mr. Hyde 10 

704 Prince Otto 10 

Julian Sturgis’s Works. 

405 My Friends and I. Edited by 

Julian Sturgis 10 

694 John Maidment 20 


Eugene Sue’s Works. 

270 The Wandering Jew'. Parti... 20 

270 The Wandering Jew'. PartH.. 20 

271 The M 3 'steries of Paris. Part I. 20 
271 The Mysteries of Paris. Part II. 20 

George Temple’s Works. 


599 Tiancelot Ward, M.P 10 

642 Britta 10 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY. -Pocket Edition. 


William M. Thackeray’s Works. 


27 Vanity Fair 20 

165 The History of Henry Esmond. 20 

464 The Nevvcomes. Parti 20 

464 The Newcomes. Part H 20 

531 The Prime Minister (1st half).. 20 
531 The Prime Minister (2d half).. 20 
670 The Rose and the Ring. Illus- 
trated 10 

Annie Thomas’s Works. 

141 She Loved Him! 10 

142 Jenifer 20 

565 No Medium 10 

Anthony Trollope’s Works. 

32 The Land Leaguers 20 

93 Anthony Trollope’s Autobiog- 
raphy 20 

147 Rachel Ray 20 

200 An Old Man’s Love 10 

531 The Prime Minister. 1st half. . 20 
531 The Prime Minister. 2d half. .. 20 

621 The Warden 10 

622 Harry Heathcote of Gangoil ... 10 
667 The Golden Lion of Granpere.. 20 

700 Ralph the Heir. 1st half 20 

700 Ralph the Heir. 2d half 20 

Margaret Veley’s Works. 

298 Mitchelhurst Place 10 

586 “ For Percival ” 20 

Jules Verne’s Works. 

87 Dick Sand; or, A Captain at 

Fifteen 20 

100 20,000 Leagues Under the Seas. 20 
368 The Southern Star; or, the Dia- 
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395 The Archipelago on Fire 10 

578 Mathias Sandorf. Illustrated. 

Part I 10 

578 Mathias Sandorf. Illustrated. 

Part II 10 

578 Mathias Sandorf. Illustrated. 

Part HI 20 

659 The Waif of the “ Cynthia ”... 20 

Ij. B. Walford’s Works. 

241 The Baby’s Grandmother 10 

2.56 Mr. Smith : A Part of His Life. 20 

258 Cousins 20 

658 The History of a Week 10 

F. Warden’s Works. 

192 At the World’s Mercy 20 

248 The House on the Marsh 10 

286 Deldee; or. The Iron Hand.... 20 

482 A Vagrant Wife 20 

556 A Prince of Darkness 20 


E. Werner’s Works. 

327 Raymond’s Atonement 20 

540 At a High Price 20 

( 8 ) 


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409 Roy’s Wife 20 

451 Market Harborough, and Inside 

the Bar 20 

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492 Mignon ; or, Booties’ Baby. Il- 
lustrated 10 

600 Houp-La. Illustrated 10 

638 In Quarters with the 25th (The 

Black Horse) Dragoons 10 

688 A Man of Honor. Illustrated.. 10 

746 Cavalry Life; or. Sketches and 

Stories in Barracks and Out. . 20 


Mrs. Henry Wood’s Works. 


8 East Lynne 20 

255 The Mystery 20 

277 The Surgeon’s Daughters 10 

508 The Unholy Wish 10 

513 Helen Whitney’s Wedding, and 

Other Tales 10 

514 The Mystery of Jessy Page, and 

Other Tales 10 

610 The Story of Dorothy Grape, 
and Other Tales 10 

Charlotte M. Yonge’s Works. 

247 The Armourer’s Prentices 10 

275 The Three Brides 10 

535 Henrietta’s Wish. A Tale 10 

563 The Two Sides of the Shield 20 

640 Nuttie’s Father 20 

665 The Dove in the Eagle’s Nest. . 20 

666 My Young Alcides: A Faded 

Photograph 20 

739 The Caged Lion . . 20 

742 Love and Life 20 

Miscellaneous. 

53 The Story of Ida. Francesca.. 10 
61 Charlotte Temple. Mrs. Row- 

son 10 

99 Barbara’s History. Amelia B. 

Edwards 20 

103 Rose Fleming. Dora Russell . . 10 
105 A Noble Wife. John Saunders 20 

111 The Little School-master Mark. 

J. H. Shorthouse 10 

112 The Waters of Marah. John 

Hill 20 

113 Mrs. Carr’s Companion. M. G. 

Wightwick 10 

114 Some of Our Girls. Mrs. C. J. 

Eiloart 20 

115 Diamond Cut Diamond. T. 

Adolphus Trollope 10 

120 Tom Brown’s School Days at 

Rugby. Thomas Hughes 20 

122 lone Stewart. Mrs. E. Lynn 

Linton 20 

127 Adrian Bright. Mrs. Caddy 20 

149 The Captain’s Daughter. From 

the Russian of Pushkin 10 

151 The Ducie Diamonds. C. Blath- 
erwick 10 


THE SEASIDE LlBRART.^Pocket Edition. 


Miscclfaneous— Continued. 

156 “For a Dream’s Sake.” Mrs. 

Herbert Martin 

158 The Starling. Norman Mac- 
leod, D.D 

160 Her Gentle Deeds. Sarah Tyt- 

ler 

161 The Lady of Lyons. Founded 

on the Play of that title by 

Lord Lytton 

163 Winifred Power. Joyce Dar- 
rell 

170 A Great Treason. Mary Hop- 

pus 

174 Under a Ban. Mrs. Lodge 

176 An" April Day. Philippa Prit- 

tie Jephson 

178 More Leaves from the Journal 
of a Life in the Highlands. 

Queen Victoria 

182 The Millionaire 

185 Dita. Lad j' Margaret Majendie 
187 The Midnight Sun. Fredrika 

Bremer 

198 A Husband’s Story 

203 John Bull and His Island. Max 
O’Rell 

218 Agnes Sorel. G. P. R. James. . 

219 Lady Clare : or. The Master of 

the Forges. From French of 

Georges Ohnet 

242 The Two Orphans. D’Ennery. 
253 The Amazon. Carl Vosmaer. . 
257 Beyond Recall. Adeline Ser- 
geant 

266 The Water-Babies. Rev. Chas. 

Kingsley 

274 Alice, Grand Duchess of Hesse, 
Princess of Great Britain and 
Ireland. Biographical Sketch 

and Letters 

279 Little Goldie : A Story of Wom- 
an’s Love. Mrs. Sumner Ha 3 "- 

den 

285 The Gambler’s Wife 

289 John Bull’s Neighbor in Her 
True Light. A “ Brutal Sax- 
on ” 

311 Two Years Before the Mast. R. 

H. Dana, Jr 

313 The Lover’s Creed. Mrs. Cash- 
el Hoey 

323 A Willful Maid 

329 The Polish Jew. (Translated 

from the French bj' Caroline 
A. Merighi.) Erckmann Chat- 
rian 

330 May Blossom ; or. Between Two 

Loves. Margaret Lee 

334 A Marriage of Convenience. 

Harriett Jay 

S35 The White Witch 

2^ The Family Difficultj'. Sarah 
Doudney 

340 Under Which King? Compton 

Reade 

341 Madolin Rivers; or, The Little 

Beauty of Red Oak Seminary. 
Laura Jean Libbey 


Vince 20 

Diana of the Crosswa 5 ’s. George 

Meredith lo 

At Any Cost. Edward Garrett. 10 

The Lottery of Life. A Story 
of New York Twenty Years 
Ago. John Brougham 20 


The Princess Dagomar of Po- 
land. Heinrich Felbermann. 10 
A Good Hater. Frederick Boyle 20 
George Ciiristy; or. The For- 


tunes of a Minstrel. Tony 

Pastor 20 

The Mysterious Hunter; or, 
The Man of Death. Capt. L. 

C. Carleton 20 

Miss Bretherton. Mrs. Hum- 
phry Ward 10 

The Dead Man’s Secret. Dr. 

Jupiter Paeon 20 

The Red Cardinal. Frances 

Elliot 10 

Three Sisters. Elsa D’Esterre- 

Keeling 10 

Introduced to Society. Hamil- 
ton A id 6 10 

The Secret of the Cliffs. Char- 
lotte French 20 

Ichabod. A Portrait. Bertha 

Thomas 10 

Miss Brown. Verpon Lee 20 

An English Squii*e. C. R. Cole- 
ridge 20 

The Merchant’s Clerk. Samuel 

Warren 10 

Tjdney Hall. Thomas Hood. . . 20 
Venus’s Doves. Ida Ashworth 

Tajdor 20 

A Bitter Reckoning. Author 

of “ Bj' Crooked Paths ” 10 

The. Witch’s Head. H. Rider 

Haggard 20 

Klytia : A Story' of Heidelberg 

Castle. George Taylor 20 

Stella. Fanny Lewaid 20 

A Sea Change. Flora L. Shaw. 20 
Ranthorpe. George Henry 

Lewes 20 

The Bachelor of the Albany... 10 
The Russians at the Gates of 

Herat. Charles Marvin 10 

A Week of Passion; or. The 
Dilemma of Mr. George Bar- 
ton the Younger. Edward 

Jenkins 20 

Alice’s Adventures in Wonder- 
land. By Lewis Carroll. 
With forty-two illustrations 

by John Tenniel 20 

The Fortunes, Good and Bad, 
of a Sewing-Girl, Charlotte 

M. Stanley 10 

Serapis. An Historical Novel. 

George Ebers 20 

Louisa. Katharine S. Macquoid 20 

Betwixt My Love and Me 10 

Tinted Vapours, J. Maclaren 
Cobban 10 




347 

20 350 

10 352 

354 

10 

355 

10 

356 

20 365 

30 

20 366 

10 

369 

10 374 

20 

10 381 

10 382 

10 

383 

10 

20 387 

im 

10 

10 399 

10 403 

10 406 

10 407 

426 

430 

10 

432 

20 435 

20 

436 

441 

10 442 

20 443 

457 

‘>n 

20 458 

10 462 

20 

10 468 

20 

10 474 

20 479 

4a3 

485 

20 

( 9 ) 


TnE SEASIDE LTBEAET.— Pocket Edition. 


Mi Hcel 1 aneo 11 s— Con tinned. 

491 Society in London. A Foreign 

Resident 10 

493 Colonel Enderby’s Wife. Lucas 

Malet 20 

501 Mr. Butler’s Ward. F. Mabel 

Robinson 20 

510 A Mad Love. Author of “ Lover 

and Lord ” 10 

512 The Waters of Hercules 20 

504 Cui-ly: An Actor’s Story. John 

Coleman 10 

505 The Society of .London. Count 

Paul Vasili 10 

509 Nell Haffenden. Tighe Hopkins 20 

518 The Hidden Sin 20 

519 James Gordon’s Wife 20 

526 Madame De Presnel. E. Fran- 
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532 Arden Court. Barbara Graham 20 

536 Dissolving Views. By Mrs. An- 
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545 Vida’s Story. By the author of 

“ Guilty Without Crime ” 10 

546 Mrs. Keith’s Crime. A Novel.. 10 

533 Hazel Kirke. Marie Walsh 20 

566 The Royal Highlanders ; or, 

The Black Watch in Egypt. 

James Grant 20 

571 Paul Crew’s Story. Alice Co- 
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575 The Finger of Fate. Captain 
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581 The Betrothed. (I Promessi 

Sposi.) Allessandro Manzoni 20 

582 Lucia, Hugh and Another. Mrs. 

J. H. Needell 20 

583 Victory Deane. Cecil Griffith . . 20 

584 Mixed Motives 10 

595 A North Country Maid. Mrs. 

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599 Lancelot Ward, M.P. George 

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612 My Wife’s Niece. By the author 

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624 Primus in Indis. M. J. Colqu- 

houn 10 

628 Wedded Hands. Author of 

“ My Lady’s Folly ” 20 

634 The Unforeseen. Alice O’Han- 
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637 What’s His Offence? ' 20 

641 The Rabbi’s Spell. Stuart 0. 

Cumberland 10 

643 The Sketch-Book of Geoffrey 

Crayon, Gent. Washington 
Irving 20 

644 A Girton Girl. Mrs. Annie Ed- 

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652 The Lady with the Rubies. E. 

Marlitt 20 

654 “Us.” An Old-fashioned Story. 

Mrs. Molesworth 10 

662 The Mystery of Allan Grale. 

Isabella Fyvie Ma 5 'o 20 

668 Half-Way. ' An Anglo-French 

Romance 20 

069 The Phih sophy of Whist. By 

William Pole 20 

675 Mrs. Dymoiid. Miss 'I'hackeray 20 
679 Where Two Ways Meet. Sarah 

Doudney 10 

681 A Singer's Story. Blay Laifan. 10 

683 The Bachelor Vicar of New- 

forth. 31 rs. J. Harcourt-Roe. 20 

684 Last Days . at Apswich 10 

092 Tlie 31ikado, and Other Comic 

Operas. Written by W. S. 
Gilbert. Composed bj' Arthur 

Sullivan 20 

705 The Woman I Loved, and tlie 
Woman Who Loved 3Ie. By 

Isa Blagden '. 10 

700 A Crimson Stain. By Annie 

Bradshaw 10 

708 Ormond. By 3Iaria Edgeworth 20 

709 Zenobia; or. The Fall of Pal- 

myra. By AVilliam AVare. 

1st half 20 

709 Zenobia; or. The Fall of Pal- 
myra. By AVilliam AVare. 

2d half 

712 For Alaimie's Sake. By Grant 20 
Allen 20 

718 Unfairly AA'^on. By 3Irs. Power 

O’Donoghue 20 

719 Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage. By 

Lord Byron 10 

723 Alauleverer’s 3Iiliions. By T. 

Wemyss Reid 20 

725 3Iy Ten Years’ Imprisonment. 

By Silvio Pellico 10 

730 The Autobiography of Benja- 

min Franklin 10 

731 The Bayou Bride. By31rs. 3Iary 

E. Biyan 20 

735 Until the Day Breaks. By 

Emil.y Spender 20 

738 In the Golden Days. By Edna 
I^yall 20 

748 Hiirrish : A Study. By the 

Hon. Emily Lawless 20 

749 Lord Vanecourt’s Daughter. By 

3Iabel Collins 20 

757 Love’s 3Iartyr. By Laurence 

Alma Tadema 10 

759 In Shallow AA’^aters. By Annie 
Armitt 20 


The foregoing works, contained in The Seaside Library, Pocket Edition, 
are for sale by all newsdealers, or will be sent to any address, postage free, on 
receipt of price. Parties ordering by mail will please order by numbers. Ad- 
dr^ss 

GEORGE WIUNIM), 

MUNRO’S PUBLISHING HOUSE, 

P. O. Box 3751. 17 to 27 A^andewater Street, N. Y, 


( 10 ) 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY.— Pocket Edition. 


LATEST ISSUES: 


NO. PRICK. 

669 Pole on Whist ao 

717 Beau Tancrede; or, the Mar- 

riagre Verdict. By Alexander 
Dumas 20 

718 Unfairly Won. By Mrs. Power 

O’Donogrhue ' . . . 20 

719 Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, By 

Lord Byron 10 

720 Paul Clifford. By Sir E. Bulwer 

Lytton, Bart 20 

721 Dolores. By Mrs. Forresler 20 

722 What’s Mine's Mine. By George 

Macdonald 20 

723 Mauleverer’s Millions. By T. 

Wemyss Reid. 20 

724 My Lord and My Lady. By 

Mrs. Forrester 20 

725 My Ten Years’ Imprisonment. 

By Silvio Pellico 10 

726 My Hero. By Mrs. Forrester.. . 20 

727 Fair Women, By Mrs. Forrester 20 

728 Janet's Repentance. By George 

Eliot 10 

729 Mignon. Mrs. Forrester 20 

730 The Autobiography of Benja- 

min Franklin 10 

731 The Bayou Bride. By Mrs. Mary 

E. Bryan 20 

732 From Glympus to Hades. By 

Mrs. Forrester... '. 20 

733 Lady Brauksmere. By “The 

Duchess’’ 20 

734 Viva. By Mrs. Forrester 20 

735 Until the Day Breaks. By 

Emily Spender 20 

736 Roy and Viola. Mrs. Forrester 20 

737 Aunt Rachel. By David Christie 

Murray 10 

738 In the Golden Days. By Edna 

Lyall 

739 The Caged Lion. By Charlotte 

M. Yonge 

740 Rhona. By Mrs. Forrester 

741 The Heiress of Hilldrop; or, 

The Romance of a Young 
Girl. By Charlotte M. Braeme, 
author of “ Dora Thorne ”... 

742 Love and Life. By Charlotte 

M. Yonge 20 

743 Jack’s Courtship. By W. Clark 

Russell. 1st half 20 

743 Jack’s Courtship. By W. Clark 

Russell. 2d half 20 

744 Diana Carew ; or. For a Wom- 

an’s Sake. By Mrs. Forrester 20 

745 For Another’s Sin ; or, A Strug- 

gle for Love. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne ” 20 


20 

20 

20 


20 


20 


20 

10 


NO. PRICK. 

746 Cavalry Life; or, Sketches and 

Stories in Barracks and Out. 

By J. S. Winter 20 

747 Our Sensation Novel. Edited 

by Justin H. McCarthy, M.P.. 10 

748 Hurrish : A Stud.y. By the 

Hon. Emily Lawless 20 

749 Lord Vanecourt’s Daughter. By 

Mabel Collins 20 

750 An Old Story of My Farming 

Days. By Fritz Reuter. First 

half 

750 An Old Story of My Farming 
Days. By Fritz Reuter. Seconil 
half 

752 Jackanapes, and Other Stories, 

By Juliana Horatia Ewing. . 

753 King Solomon’s Mines. By H. 

Rider Haggard 20 

754 How to be Happy Though Mar- 

ried. By ,a Graduate in the 
University of Matrimony 20 

755 Mai-gery Daw. A Novel 20 

756 The Strange Adventures of Cap- 

tain Dangerous. A Narrative 
in Plain Englisli. Attempted 
by George Augustus Sala 

757 Love’s Martyr. By Laurence 

Alma Tadema 

758 “Good-bye, Sweetheart!’’ By 

Rhoda Broughton 20 

759 In Shallow Waters. By Annie 

Armitt 

760 Aurelian ; or, Rome in the Third 

Century. By William Ware. . 

762 Impressions of Theophrastus 

Such. By George Eliot 10 

763 The Midshipman, Marmaduke 

Merry. By Wm. H. G. Kingston 20 

765 Not Wisely, But Too Well. By 

Rhoda Broughton 20 

766 No. XIII ; or, the Story of the 

Lost Vestal. By Emma Mar- 
shall .. 10 

767 Joan. By Rhoda Broughton .. . 20 

768 Red as a Rose is She, By Rhoda 

Broughton 20 

769 Cometh Up as a Flower. By 

Rhoda Broughton 20 

770 The Castle of Otranto. By 

Horace Walpole 10 

771 A Mental Struggle. By “ The 

Duchess ’’.. ._ 20 

772 Gascoyne, the Sandal-Wood 

Trader. By R. M. Ballantyne 20 

773 The Mark of Cain. By Andrew 

Lang 10 

775 The Three Clerks, By Anthony 
Trollope 20 


20 

10 


20 

20 


The foregoing works, contained in The Seaside Library, Pocket Edition, 
are for sale by all newsdealers, or will be sent to any address, postage free, on 
receipt of price. Parties ordering by mail iiiill please order by numbers. Ad- 
di* 0 ss 

(GEORGE IRIJNKO, 

WUNRO’S PUBLISHING HOUSE, 

P. O. Box 3751. 17 to 27 Vandewater Street, N. Y, 





The New York Fashion Bazar. 

THE BEST AMEEICAN HOME MAGAZINE. 

Price Cents per Copy. Subscription Price $3.00 per Year. 


Among its regular contributors are Mary Cecil Hay, “ The Duchess,” 
author of “ Molly Bawn,” Lucy Randall Comfort, Charlotte M. Braeme, 
author of “Dora Thorne,” Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller, Mary E. Bryan, 
author of “ Manch,” and Florence A. Warden, author of “ The House on the 
Marsh.” 


COMMENTS OF 

The New York Fashion Bazar aims 
to give full information of what ladies 
and children should wear, and, from 
the space devoted to the matter, both 
pictorially and descriptively, we would 
suppose it succeeds. There is also a 
considerable amount of miscellaneous 
reading matter, especially of fiction. 
(Publi^ed by George Munro, New 
York City. $3.00 a year.)— United 
Presbyterian. 

The New York Fashion Bazar for 
this month, Gteorge Munro, publisher, 
is on our table, and an interesting 
number it is to the women of the land 
who have their spring costumes to 
make up. This magazine is standard 
and the best authority on matters of 
fashion. — Baptist Reflector. 

The current number of The New 
York Fashion Bazar, published by 
George Munro, New York, is an illus- 
trated library, as it were, of fashions 
in every branch of human wear. The 
figures, forms, and fittings are almost 
bewildering even to those who possess 
a quick eye to the subject that is so 
widely fascinating. The colored first 
page of the cover is too attractive to 
such people to be resisted. The Fash- 
ion Colored Supplement forms the 
frontispiece to the present number. — 
New England Journal of Agriculture. 

We have received the last number of 
The New York Fashion Bazar, pub- 
lished by George Munro, New York 
City, the yearly subscription of which 
is only $3. Each number has a large 
colored fashion supplement, contain- 
ing New York and Paris fashions, and 
the book is full of illustrations of every 
conceivable article of ladies’ attire and 
descriptions how to make the same, 
besides serial stories and sketches and 
much miscellaneous matter. — Maine 
Farmer. 


THE PRESS: 

We have received the last number of 
The New York Fashion Bazar, and at 
a hasty glance we see it is an interest- 
ing magazine. Its fashions are useful 
to those ladies who do their own dress- 
making, or even decide how they shall 
be made, and its stories are fascinat- 
ing. What more can we say? Address 
George Munro, 17 Vandewater Street, 
N. Y.— Worcester [Mass.] Chronicle. 

The New York Fashion Bazar, pub- 
lished by George Munro, is full of fash- 
ions and reading. It seems to be very 
full, and to be well adapted to the end 
sought. The yearly subscription is 
$3.W, or 25 cents a number. It is very 
large, containing seventy-four pages, 
large size. — Wilmington Morning 
Star. 

The New York Fashion Bazar con- 
tains an attractive variety of literary 
entertainments, stories, poems, sketch- 
es. etc., in addition to the display of 
ladies’ fashions which are its chief 
study. These are set forth with an 
array of pictures and descriptions 
which should leave nothing to doubt 
regarding the newest styles. The se- 
lection of embroidery patterns offers a 
tempting choice for artistic tastes. 
New' York: George Munro. — Home 
Journal. 

The New York Fashion Bazar, with 
supplement, is one of the most inter- 
esting and ornamental periodicals that 
have reached the Herald office. It is 
issued by the publisher of the Fireside 
Companion and Seaside Library.— 
Chicago Herald. 

The New York Fashion Bazar, pub- 
lished by George Munro, for this month, 
is a marvel of beautjr and excellence. 
It is full of entertaining reading, and 
of the newest and most fashionable 
patterns and designs. It must be seen 
to be appreciated. — Church Press. 

The New York Fashion Bazar is for sale by all newsdealers, price 25 cents 
per copy. Subscription price $3.00 per year. Address 

GEORGE MUNRO, Munro’s Publisliinir House, 

P. O. Box 3751. 17 to 27 Vandewater Street, N. Y. 


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